A Ghost's Shadow
by EverspringNative
Summary: Follow Up to the Award Winning Reader's Choice Award 'A heart that waits.' Courtship and a new life are nothing like what Erik expects as the story continues. Please Review!
1. Default Chapter

Ghost Shadow

Once again my companion for the night was a ball of hair. After helping Alexandre to bed and answering Madeline's questions in grunts and headshakes, I retired for the night with Bessie, who greeted me with an array of sounds that in her native tongue sounded like ecstasy.

She sat thumping her tail on the ground while I dressed for bed. The first thing I did was remove the wig, and it felt like a blessing to have it off my head. The tension released from my forehead made me sigh. Though I absolutely despised leaving clothes scattered around the room, I removed my cloak and tossed it onto the chair with my shirt, trousers and socks. I was too tired to redress completely and settled for only pajama pants. I saw the dog staring at me and knew that her kicking would cause me to wear a shirt or remove her from the room.

I hadn't seen her in days, I thought, as I buttoned my shirt and lay down in bed.

It was a shame, I thought, as she clawed me in the spine and licked the back of my neck, that some people didn't live for ten years and some dogs didn't live for fifty. Bessie snorted against my ear and pushed me farther across the bed.

"Calm yourself," I whispered. I reached back and tugged on her ear. "You'll be replaced by a woman soon enough."

She growled at me. I wasn't sure if it was because she thought I had insulted her or she didn't appreciate me pulling her ear.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Thank God this night had ended.

Over and over again I envisioned the last kiss I had shared with Julia, the way she had touched my face and not cried out or flinched or run from me. Her compassion, her acceptance, made my lips quiver.

I needed to sleep. Thinking of her was making me too emotional, draining me inside and out. There was nothing as completely debilitating as love. And now it was forbidden love, again.

I hit the mattress with my fist for thinking like a love-sick poet. I didn't need to dote over Julia. We would see each other tomorrow like two civilized adults and have a pleasant conversation. Then I would suggest she accept my offer and marry me.

It would be simple. My eyes grew heavy and I dreamt of the song I would compose for our wedding. A nice song, I thought, no longer the need for a requiem.

A knock at the door woke me. I could have sworn only a moment or two had passed, but when I opened my eyes the sun was shining brightly through the gap in the curtains. Well, hell.

"Are you awake?" Madeline asked.

I turned over and looked at the clock. It was only ten in the morning, which normally would have been ungodly late, but since I hadn't gone to bed until four, it was far too early.

"What do you want?" I grumbled as I sat up.

She took that as an invitation to try the door. Finding it unlocked, she barged in. I wondered what she would do if I slept undressed at night. That would certainly teach her to not enter uninvited.

Madeline looked frazzled. She stood wringing her hands and glancing about the room, carefully avoiding my gaze. "Today I take it to be cleaned but…but…I can't find it." Her eyes scanned the dresser and saw the wig tossed aside. "Oh…."

Normally it would have been on a wig stand or nicely wrapped for cleaning but I had merely tossed it onto the cherry wood desk and forgotten it in my need for sleep.

Her face flushed as she stared at it in complete horror. She wouldn't turn to face me.

"Where's the other one?"

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Julia's house."

"It needs to be cleaned."

I wondered if she was more concerned about the payment she would receive for its cleaning or for my personal comfort. With a yawn I rose to my feet. "Take this one," I said with a wave of my hand.

"But you need it."

I yawned again. "I will retrieve the other one from Julia tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Raoul de Chagny is stopping by her house for dinner."

She looked at me, wide-eyed as though I had completely lost my mind.

"What?" I asked.

Madeline turned away. "You should not go over there," she said under her breath.

I crossed my arms and regarded her a moment as she opened one of the drawers in my desk and removed a sheet of brown paper. With great care she placed the wig on top and carefully folded the paper over it. She treated it as she would some fine religious relic.

"He wants Alex to inherit his fortune," I said.

Her reaction made me smirk. Her body straightened and she turned swiftly to stare at me. "Why would he do such a thing?"

Because he's a damned fool, I thought. "Because Alex is Christine's son."

Madeline studied me a moment. She searched my eyes for deceit but found nothing worth arguing about. With the wig folded into the paper, she walked to the bedroom door.

"You would be wise to be careful," Madeline said with her back to me. She took a deep breath and looked at me from the corner of her eye. "I don't want Alexandre to lose his father. I don't…I don't want you…I don't want to worry about you, Erik."

While she spoke I had moved across the room. I stood directly behind her and touched her arm with one hand while holding two twenty-franc notes over her shoulder with the other one. She stared at my hand a moment and reluctantly took the money. Before I pulled away she ran her thumb down my fingers.

"Don't worry. Everything is signed over to you," I whispered.

"Oh, Erik."

"Stop at the bakery," I said before she could finish. "Pick up two—no three croissants on your way home."

She turned and looked at me. "Meg made breakfast."

"I'm sure she did, but with the two of you inheriting my house I would rather not be fed arsenic," I said with a smirk.

She tried her best to glare at me but decided it was easier to turn away. "Welcome home," she said before she walked out the bedroom door.

It hadn't even been a week and still it felt like a month had passed since I had been home. Meg had conveniently left a stack of paperwork for me on the kitchen table. She had placed bread and preserves at my place setting along with bills from the butcher's shop and tailor.

There was no one in the kitchen when I finally came down for the morning. It felt surreal to walk about the house without my mask and hair. For a half-hour I had combed my own thin strands and attempted to make it presentable. Over and over I tried to reassure myself that if Alexandre could accept this beast as his father, the rest of the house could tolerate a gruesome carcass as the benefactor.

Charles and Alexandre had holed themselves up in the study while Meg was humming to herself as she swept out the foyer. I saw her on my way down the stairs but didn't turn.

Meg and I had always had a rather strange way of going about our business without interacting. She only spoke to me when something involved Alexandre, and even then she preferred to keep her distance.

The older dancers had teased her when she first came to the ballet. They had told her that the opera ghost was looking for a little blond child to steal away. She went crying to her mother and said that I would take her away and use her for doll parts. I thought it was amusing but Madeline felt differently. To quell Meg's anxieties and to make an even more preposterous claim, I left her a note ensuring her and her mother that one day I would make her Empress. Meg Giry, Empress of France. She was very proud of that unearned title. The dancers talked for weeks.

Meg, of course, came into the kitchen and heard me chuckling as I sifted through a bill for the cobbler. She was careful not to look at me as she pulled off her ring and set it on the counter. She always removed her ring before she prepared to clean the dishes.

Since she was Madeline's daughter, I had generally left Meg alone. She wasn't particularly enjoyable to toy with as she gasped and turned white at the slightest sound. Time and again she swore I had taken her ballet slippers when she was the one who never put them in the same place twice.

Meg took away the challenge and my enjoyment. I sometimes wondered if she laughed as easily as she shrieked.

I stared at her while she did the dishes. I suspected she didn't feel comfortable standing with her back to me as her posture was rigid. It made no difference. It gave me time to think.

I tapped my fingers on the leather cover of my checkbook. If I was going to ask Julia to be my wife I would need a ring to present to her along with all of the reasons why she should agree. I had eight hours to devise a list.

The ring….

"Meg," I said. The word came out harsh. The poor thing jumped and glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being here. In your way."

"Well, to compensate for your burden, tell me what you paid for the gold band."

Meg stared at the ring she had removed. "Charles gave it to me," she stammered.

I sighed. "Well, what did he pay for it?"

"He never told me."

My fingers tapped faster. She was irritating me and wasting my time. I still needed to draw up my proposal and decide what I would say to the vicomte's offer.

At my wit's end, I rested my chin in my palm. "Could you estimate?"

She hesitated. "Five thousand francs?"

There were operas that sold for much more than that. I could write one act for an opera and command that amount. "Five thousand?"

She nodded. "Are you….pawning it?"

"No," I replied.

She started to speak again but stopped herself.

"What?" I snapped.

It took her quite some time to muster the courage to speak again. "I was going to say that if you didn't want me to write Christine, I would stop. I saw what she did to Julia's hand and…and I understand."

"Understand what?"

She stammered again. "I don't quite know."

Meg's nerves had the best of her. Despite my irritation, I found her amusing. I rose from the table and took the bread and preserves with me, deciding it was best to leave her alone. Too many years had passed between us and none of them had been good.

Before I walked from the room she spoke again. "I was worried about you," she blurted out.

I paused and turned.

"Is the ring for Julia?" she asked as she leaned against the sink.

"It's been a consideration of mine," I replied.

She simply nodded. I knew she continued to search the right side of my face as though the skin would change but I didn't say anything to her. There was no need. We had finally communicated.

"Do you still want to be Empress?" I questioned.

Meg blushed furiously. "I had forgotten that," she said quietly. A slight smile pulled at her lips. "The older girls mocked me for weeks."

"I know. Why do you think there were always chocolates in your ballet slippers?"

"I could never find my ballet slippers," she said with a slight giggle.

I stared at her for a moment and saw her coyly smile. It was the first time we had ever really spoken at all in nine years. I found the exchange strangely tolerable.

At last I nodded. "They're in the cellar. In a box with several playbills."

Without another word, I went upstairs.

Ch 1

The afternoon passed without much activity. Just as before my rendezvous with the vicomte, I stayed upstairs and worked while Meg and Madeline cleaned and did whatever else was normal for their day. Madeline returned late in the afternoon and tapped on the door. She sounded horrified when she told me how she had forgotten about the croissants. She offered to go out again but I had no interest. I didn't even notice when she left the room.

I'll be damned if the checkbook wasn't balanced. Not even a week yet eleven hundred francs were missing. However, money was least of my worries.

I went about planning for the meeting with the vicomte first. My mind was made up. He would not claim my son as a nephew. I had no interest in Alexandre assuming the Chagny name. He would have my name and no other. If the vicomte didn't like it then he could go to hell.

And to hell with the truce. I owed him nothing.

If he wanted to set up funds for Alexandre, he would need to do so through a third party. Meg and Charles had become Alexandre's legal guardians as I needed a married couple to become his guardians should I die. Anything regarding Alex would be done through their solicitor.

Which reminded me, I still needed to ask Charles if he would agree, and to ask him what he paid for Meg's ring.

My Julia.

I was hell-bent on finding a convincing reason for Julia to agree to marriage. There had to be something I could tell her that she would find remarkable.

I would capture it on paper and take it with me for my after-dinner proposal.

Alexandre knocked on the open door a few hours after his studies concluded for the day and provided a queer distraction. He rushed in and asked if I thought a bear could defeat a lion in an arena fight. With this question I assumed Charles had moved on to Roman studies.

"The lion, I think," I answered. How was I supposed to know?

"Why not the bear?"

"The lion has teeth and claws."

"But so does the bear."

"Then the bear."

Honestly, I wasn't sure where the difference was between Alexandre's erratic words and Bessie chasing her tail.

Alex stayed for a while and gave valid reasons for and against the bear and the lion. He sat on the bed as I looked over the newspapers I had not read while incapacitated at Julia's home.

It was still a struggle to speak with him. I had a feeling it would be difficult for quite some time.

At last Alex decided that he wasn't sure which animal would win though he was leaning toward a bear, depending on its species. He asked for permission to play with two boys across the street whom I had never heard of before and I consented.

He hugged me from behind before he left. He buried his face against my shoulder and pressed against my neck. I no longer had the heart to reprimand him for leaving the previous night, though I suspected his show of affection was part of a greater scheme.

I turned up the lamp at my writing desk as late afternoon became early evening. After hours of sitting hunched over, I needed to stand and stretch. My body was still sore from several days spent in bed and a long night of walking up and down stairs.

My frustration continued to grow as I sat at my desk. I couldn't think of any reasons for Julia to marry me save one: Longevity.

We shared five years but that wasn't going to be enough to persuade her to stay with me. I stared at the page with the single word I had written hours ago and felt like slamming my head into the wall.

There had to be something more profound.

I loved her.

Ink splattered across the page as I collapsed in the wooden chair again and jotted my second reason down. Just as quickly as I had become excited by my new thought I was just as quickly disappointed. The rest of the paper remained blank.

I folded the list into my overcoat pocket and glanced at the clock again. It was already a quarter past nine.

A quarter past nine!

The vicomte, of course, had reached Julia's home in a timely manner. Before I opened the back door I heard their voices. Julia was laughing.

He was making her laugh. On the night I would ask her to consider marriage, the vicomte was making her laugh.

"…most amusing, Monsieur. Your daughters sound simply delightful."

"The oldest one would love Lisette. Your daughter is a beautiful girl. You can tell she's just like you."

"How very kind of you to say."

I mocked her in disgust before I opened the door, before I ruined their perfect little chat.  
He was not supposed to be entertaining Julia. The night was about business, not jovial banter.

The vicomte would not ruin my evening. As much as he tried, I would not allow his inappropriate conversation to destroy my night.

Their pleasant talk ended the moment the door opened and I walked through Julia's kitchen into the dining room. Both of them turned to stare at me and my delayed arrival. It irritated me that they said nothing.

"I apologize," I said through my teeth. "Though I see it made no difference to either of you."

Julia rose and took my cloak without a word, which left my snide comment lingering in the room.

"Good evening," the vicomte said politely. His courteous nature was grating on my nerves.

I nodded, barely glancing in his direction. His perfect hair, face and clothing made me well aware of how my attire only emphasized what a disaster I truly was. My anger flared as Julia returned to the dining room.

"Would you like something to drink? Dinner should be finished shortly."

"What do you have in your cellar?" I asked.

Julia walked toward the kitchen. "Raoul, would you like something as well?"

He respectfully declined and Julia told me to follow her. The moment we reached the cellar door she turned and glared at me.

"Your disrespect is completely unnecessary," she said quietly.

"Disre--? My what?"

"You know very well what you said was rude. I expect you will be civil tonight for Alex's sake or I will ask you to leave."

She was treating me like a child. I would not be treated like an infant. "So you will be alone with him again? Is that what you want?"

Julia's hazel eyes narrowed. "Are you…jealous? Of the two of us talking?"

"What a preposterous claim," I scoffed.

She sighed and shifted her weight. "I suppose you expected that I would just sit there and stare at him in silence until you bothered to make an appearance?"

My fingers found the folded list inside my overcoat pocket. Longevity and love, I thought, I would hold my tongue for the sake of longevity and love.

I did what I had to do to appease her.

"You're right," I said. My insides were burning. It took every ounce of self-control to say those two words. She wasn't right, there was nothing to be right about, but if it stopped her from yelling at me on the night I wanted to ask for her hand, then so be it.

Her expression changed. Julia was both amazed and delighted about my change of attitude. She nodded slowly. "Thank you," she replied. She patted me on the chest and told me to wait for her. A moment later she returned with a bottle of wine. "Shall we begin?"

I nodded. The sooner the vicomte left the sooner the enjoyable half of the night could begin.

Raoul de Chagny was absurdly prepared for the evening. He brought points, counterpoints, balances, proof of estates and receipts from his daughters' education as further certification of his financial stability.

In the hour and forty-five minutes he spent explaining his plan I kept thinking of how I would approach Julia. My proposal to Christine had been very concise. I gave her the gold band and asked if she would marry me.

She refused.

While the vicomte continued his rambling, fear began to worm its way into my mind. What if Julia rejected my proposal? I had not entertained the idea of her refusing me.

Oh God, she could very well say no.

The thought terrified me.

"Erik?" Julia said.

She startled me. I looked at her and then at the vicomte.

"Do you need more time to decide?" the vicomte asked.

I needed to think things over. "Give me a month," I said.

The vicomte began shuffling papers and filing them neatly into his leather folder. "I have left my address for correspondence with Julia. I thank you both for a pleasant evening," he said as he rose.

He was leaving. I hadn't listened to a word he had said since I arrived.

"Have a safe trip," Julia replied. She stood with him and went to fetch his coat.

The vicomte nervously wrung his hands as we remained alone in the same room. He had no reason to be apprehensive. I couldn't have cared less that he was still there.

"I know you don't want him to have my name and I don't blame you. I would not want my son to carry another man's name either." He paused and licked his lips. "However, would you consider giving him both names? Chagny and Kire?"

"I'll consider," I muttered.

He nodded and Julia returned to the dining room with his cloak, gloves, and hat.

"Well…" he started.

"Well, good night," I said before he could finish.

His face hardened but he said nothing. He donned his outer garb and started to the front entrance. Julia glared at me but followed the vicomte without protest. I rose as well, deciding it would be in my best interest to see him to the door.

"Where are you traveling to next?" I asked in an attempt to sound interested.

"Lyon," he said.

I realized I had nothing to say to him. "Is it…nice….there?"

"Yes, quite," he answered. He apparently had nothing to say to me either.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," Julia said. She faced away from me as she spoke. "When you are in Paris again, don't hesitate to bring your daughters by the house."

"Oh, of course, of course," he said. "You've been a most gracious host."

Apparently I had become furniture in the way of their coupling.

"Good night," Julia said as they shook hands.

The vicomte looked at me one last time. "Thank you for agreeing to meet tonight."

His placid nature irritated me. "Anything for Alexandre," I said.

He finally left. Once the door closed, I wished I hadn't shoved him so quickly from Julia's home.

"If you think I am taking you upstairs you have another think coming," Julia seethed. "I told you last night—"

"I know what you told me." I took the note from my pocket. Longevity and love, I told myself, I would look past her anger for the sake of longevity and love.

She turned her head to the side. "What is that?"

"It's a list."

"A list of what?"

"Of things I wanted to discuss with you tonight," I answered. My hands had started to tremble. She could have at least had the decency to be more civil at such a crucial moment.

Julia started to reach for the list but I pulled it away and shoved it back into my pocket.

"Erik—"

"May we sit down?"

She stared at me a while suspecting I was up to something lecherous. With a sigh she nodded. "The parlor," she said.

I followed her into the study and pulled up a chair beside hers. She folded her hands in her lap and sighed.

"Now what was so urgent?"

"I have something I would like to present for your consideration," I started. She stared at me with an unwavering gaze that made me increasingly uncomfortable.

She rubbed her eyes with her uninjured hand. "Well, say it then, Erik."

"I want you to agree to marriage," I blurted out. She had me so damned flustered that I shouted out my words.

"You…what?"

"Marriage, to marriage, I want you to agree to marriage."

"You're proposing?" She held her hand to her heart.

"No."

"No?"

"Not unless you first agree."

We stared at each other for a moment. She tried very hard not to smile but lost the struggle and let out a soft chuckle. Her response angered me. The last thing I wanted was to see her laugh at my proposition.

"You won't ask me to marry you unless I agree to marry you?" she asked.

I rose to my feet, my skin rising with gooseflesh and my neck flushed with embarrassment. Not even Christine had laughed in my face.

"So now you're going to leave?"

"Are you refusing my offer?"

Julia crossed her arms. "You've hardly made an offer, Erik."

"Good night, Julia," I said gruffly.

She took my hand and had me sit again. "What is the list for? Persuasion?"

"Not anymore."

Julia was quiet for a moment. I couldn't bring myself to look at her.

"May I hear the reasons?" she asked quietly.

"Longevity and love," I said under my breath. "Damned longevity and love."

"Longevity?"

"Five years," I snapped. "We've had five years together."

She considered my words for a moment. "So I should agree to a proposal because you bedded me for five years?"

"If that's how you so crudely want to put it. And because I love you," I said. I sighed and started to stand again. "Forget it. I've changed my mind."

"Erik, you are the most maddening, juvenile creature I have ever known. First you ask me to marry you and make it into the most dreadful-sounding business proposal I ever heard. Then you didn't even give me an opportunity to answer."

"Then answer."

"Fine. My answer is no, I will not agree to your proposal."

I was surprised I could still breathe after she denied me. I looked away from her and wanted to sob. Nothing had come out right. I had made an ass of myself.

"I will, however, agree to courtship."

I turned and faced her. "To what?"


	2. Kerosene Tiger

_Please accept my apology for the sudden change of location. Gabrina wasn't thinking when she posted Ghost's Shadows after Heart. You must understand that there are 3 Eriks and a woman named Miranda walking about in her head._

_This chapter is also dedicated with much love to Beau. He'll most likely never read this story but nonetheless, Gabrina hopes 'whatever hapens will be' brings him back safe from Iraq. We must get into cheesecake and trouble._

Ch 3

"Courtship," Julia repeated. "It is the proper step toward a relationship. Of course, we didn't quite start out properly the first time, but we could remedy that easily now."

A courtship. What in hell's name had just happened?

I crossed my arms and thought about what she had said. She hadn't dismissed me altogether but she also hadn't agreed. Courtship was like being in purgatory.

"What would that entail?" I asked.

"Dinner, for one, perhaps walks at night, actual conversation," she started. She looked at me sharply. "Are you inquiring as to whether or not we will continue as before?"

"I would have no objection," I shrugged. She should have known I would never voluntarily choose to be celibate.

"Wouldn't that be a suitable start for a new relationship?"

"It isn't a 'new relationship' per se," I argued.

She stepped closer and shook her head at me. "At least for the time being, we will conduct ourselves in a manner which seems appropriate."

I sighed. "When does this courtship begin?"

Julia tapped her chin with her finger. "In three weeks?"

"In three weeks?" I exclaimed. "Why three weeks?"

"Would you prefer a month?"

"I would rather start tonight," I said as I followed her from the parlor.

"And I would have rather started five years ago instead of being your _placee. _It seems we both want something different."

"How long does this need to go on for?"

She stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face me.

"I didn't mean it like that," I said but it was already too late.

"How long indeed. As long as is necessary. Or until I tell you to bother someone else." She shifted her weight and sighed in disgust. "You may act like a gentleman or you may act like a boar. What is so nauseating about courtship? You act as though this will kill you."

"I want you to agree to marriage."

"Erik, I told you last night that I wanted you to tell me about yourself. My request hasn't changed. In three weeks you may ask me to dinner or out for a walk or a chat in the parlor. You may decide how you wish to begin our courtship. If I accept—"

"If? What do you mean if?"

She smiled and turned away from me. There was no choice but to follow her into the guest room.

"As with any courtship there is a chance I will refuse to see you."

She left me stunned beyond words. I felt like an animal in a traveling fair, doused in kerosene and told to jump through a flaming hoop.

"What if I refuse..."

_To court you, _I thought to myself.I sighed in disgust. She had me in a vise. I would either take the chance or crawl back home. Again, my _anger_ flared. "Would you deny Raoul de Chagny?"

Even as I said it I knew it was a mistake. Damn! Damn! Damn!

"You're jealous of Raoul de Chagny? Of a man who was invited to dinner and told me about his daughters while you were doing God knows what."

"I was making a list so you would agree to marry me!" I shouted. Though I shouldn't have continued, I pressed on. "I'm certainly surprised you didn't lock the back door and take him up to your room. Then again, perhaps you did. You were enjoying his company so damned much…"

"You arrived fifteen minutes late, Erik, even our first time took longer than that."

I stared at her in complete disbelief. My anger was slowly replaced by devastation. She didn't think I was good enough. I wasn't virile enough, wasn't man enough to please her? Had I ever pleased her?

"Why must you always seek a fight?" Julia snapped. "Do you want me to refuse to ever see you again?"

"I want you to take back your words," I said quietly as I turned away from her.

"Why would you think I wish to sleep with him?"

I turned again and glared at her, pointing at my face. "Why indeed, Madame?"

Julia sat down on the guest bed and looked about the room. "I was in love with you well before I saw your face. Why can't you understand that?"

It was beyond my imagination, beyond all realms of possibility that anyone would ever be in love with me. Friendship itself had not come easily. I tried to think of whom I called my friends. Meg, Madeline and Charles were the only three people I knew. Charles had no choice because he was married to Meg. Meg's career had ended after she ruined her knee following the fall of the chandelier. Madeline stayed because she couldn't find employment.

None of them were my friends. They were there because I paid them to clean my house, make my dinner and educate my son.

I was in my forties and had not even a single soul to call a friend. I had a dog. The extent of my companionship was a Basset Hound. She didn't understand ugliness. She understood a beef bone slipped beneath the table. I bribed her for her friendship.

"I can't court you," I whispered. A tear slipped from my eye. "I can't take away your life."

"You made a list," she said with a chuckle. She either hadn't heard my pathetic words or chose to ignore them. "Oh, Erik, what am I to do? No one has ever made a list of reasons why I should marry them. I must say it is endearing of you to put so much thought into your….what did you call it? Your presentation for my consideration?"

I didn't want to face her. "I could only come up with two reasons," I said, straining to keep my voice clear of emotion. There should have been more than two words on the paper. I should have had a tome of reasons why she should forget the courtship and immediately agree to marriage. Sadly, the list of reasons for her to deny me was far longer.

"They were good reasons," she admitted though I wasn't sure if she was mocking me or not. Julia stood and rested her head against my shoulder and chuckled louder. "You terrible fool. I suppose I'll see you again in three weeks."


	3. Checkbook and a Ring

_Julia refused my proposal. How many of you would refuse my proposal? Exactly. _

_In better news, "Heart" won the phanphic awards! Thanks for your votes!_

* * *

Three weeks. I had three weeks to decide how in the hell our courtship would begin. I left Julia's house shortly before midnight with a bag of my belongings that had been left from my stay.

As much as I wanted to balk, I knew Julia was correct in wanting to explore a relationship. She deserved something better than what Louis had provided, and as much as I didn't want to think about it, she deserved more than I could offer.

I walked from her backyard to mine and into the empty kitchen. The house was dark, save for the library. Charles was still awake and reading. There were times when I returned from Julia's home and Charles was still in the library reading books or writing his memoirs.

"Charles," I said when I walked into the room.

He jumped at the sound of my voice. "Goodness, Monsieur, you startled me. How are you this evening?"

"Highly irritated," I sighed. I pulled up a chair and collapsed beside him.

He pulled off his spectacles and set them on the table beside his book. As much as he attempted not to stare, Charles found his eyes drawn to my face. His usual olive skin tone paled, his nose wrinkling. Clearly he had not expected something so misshapen and monstrous. I held my hand against the back of my neck. Charles had the strongest reaction of anyone in the house. For a man who had his own physical misfortune, his response shamed me more than I would have expected.

"And in a great deal of pain," I said under my breath.

"Would you prefer me to stay or leave?"

"Oh, I don't care what in the hell you do."

Charles regarded me for a moment. His arms rested comfortably on the desk as he adjusted to my presence. Perhaps he feared I would excuse him from my home.

"May I help you with something, Monsieur?"

I crossed my arms. He was the only one still awake, and though I could have explained myself to the dog, I needed answers.

"How long did you court Meg?"

He looked surprised by my question and nervously rearranged the book and his glasses. "Well, we knew each other before the war, though we were more acquaintances than anything else." He tapped his fingers together as he reminisced. "When I returned she and I officially courted. I would have to ask her for certain but I would say about a year."

"A year? Why so long?"

"A year isn't so long." He paused again. "Why such interest, Monsieur?"

Charles was merely my son's tutor. I didn't owe him an explanation for my questioning. At any moment I could have chosen to walk from the room and retire for the night.

"Julia," I sighed. I began tapping my foot against the rug.

"Congratulations," Charles said. He sounded far more excited than I over the arrangement. He offered his hand. "That's fine news."

His response surprised me. I sat forward and accepted his handshake. "There was something else I needed to talk to you about."

"Yes, Monsieur, anything."

"I need to draft a check."

"Oh…"

"How much would you suspect a decent ring would cost? I want her to buy something nice. When the time is right, of course."

Charles considered my words for a moment. He looked me in the eye when he spoke. The man had nerve. "You…intend…to have Madame Seuratti purchase her own ring?"

"How would I know what to purchase?"

"Well, honestly you don't. But it would be more appropriate if a token of affection came from you…don't you think?"

When he said it, my original idea of handing Julia a check sounded asinine.

"Of course," I muttered. "It would be appropriate."

The dog wandered into the study and flopped down on my foot. She let out a sigh as though she was disgusted that I was still awake.

Charles nodded and cupped his hand over his mouth. He tried to stop himself from yawning. "Madame Seuratti is a very nice woman. Meg is quite fond of her. I'm very happy for the two of you."

I nudged Bessie out of the way and stood. My back was still sore, the knots quite prominent just above my hips. I twisted my torso and yawned, realizing I was tired as well. "I suppose I've bothered you enough for the night, Charles. Good night."

"It's no trouble, Monsieur," Charles replied quickly. "It can be quite the henhouse around here at times. If you ever need anything—"

"Advice you mean?"

"Not necessarily." His eyes narrowed for a moment. "Unless—"

A man almost half my age offered me advice. How galling! With the way everything had gone thus far, I had no choice but to accept. What a pair we would make; an invalid and a man with half a face.

"I'll speak with you tomorrow, Monsieur Lowry. Rest well."

"Good night, Monsieur, and welcome home."

Charles had given me even more to think about. Now, instead of planning a courtship, I had to purchase a damned ring. I closed the bedroom door and sighed. It had certainly been easier to live beneath an opera house alone. My frustration was such that I wasn't sure what was more miserable: complete solitude or the hell of trying to please a woman.

As soon as I returned to my room I no longer felt as tired as I had in the library. I was anxious.

Why was this so damned difficult? Nothing had ever consumed me the way this day—and a distant day at that—had me grappling with my last nerve. She was going to give me a bloody ulcer, a giant sore in my gut. Julia and her insistence on waiting for an engagement would drive me into the grave. Perhaps that was what she wanted. She could avoid marriage by killing me first.

Why couldn't we consider ourselves engaged and wait three weeks for the wedding?

The more I thought about the night the worse my headache became. I paced the length of the room and muttered to myself. Nothing had gone as I had wanted. She was supposed to sit down, hear me out, and agree without question.

Julia made me feel like an imbecile. Did all men feel this reduced to nothing when it came to courting, or was my lack of contact with the world to blame? I hoped to God I wasn't the only one so ill aware of proper romantic rituals.

Romantic. The very word made me grimace. My attempts in the past had failed me miserably. Flowers, a ring, music…everything I did to please Christine had only pushed her away.

I paused before the mirror and stared hard at my reflection. The thing looking back at me should have groveled for even a heartbeat of her affection. The face in the mirror should have had bloodied, bruised knees from hours of thanking God for such fortune. I didn't deserve to be with her. I never deserved a moment of her time, a glance from her beautiful eyes, a single caress from her soft hand.

With a sigh of dismay I turned from the terrible beast looming in my mirror. I was too old to suffer through the same trials I had experienced with Christine.

"Julia is different," I muttered to myself as I walked the room again.

I noticed Julia's house was dark when I walked by the window. She was asleep while I was pacing the floor with my hands in my pockets and my shirt and waistcoat tossed on the end of the bed. I no longer cared if there were clothes scattered across the floor. I was that concerned about our first night of courtship that tidiness was the furthest thing from my mind.

Three weeks. I had three weeks to sort out what I was doing. Everything had to be perfect for her.

If only I knew what I was doing.


	4. Phonograph Swindler

Julia is making me wait three weeks to start the courtship. Charles saved me from one disaster by suggesting I buy a ring for Julia. Perhaps the people inhabiting my house are of use.

Ch 4

I watched the sunrise eight mornings in a row. Not because I wanted to watch the sky turn from black to a dull, listless gray, but because I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed on my back and stared out the window. I was restless. She made me restless. My bruises had healed nicely but I was in greater discomfort than I had ever been before.

If Madeline hadn't knocked daily on the bedroom door, I probably would have spent the next two weeks at my writing desk or in bed. Consternation left me completely suspended, balancing precariously between elation and disgust.

Thirteen days before our first officially sanctioned meeting and I had created and discarded plans for the night a hundred times. There was one thing I would have liked to suggest but Julia never would have agreed. It wasn't proper.

Over and over again I went back to her words. Even I had taken longer than fifteen minutes the first time. Her words made my stomach turn. Nothing felt more like a dagger twisted in my groin than hearing her say those words. I had angered her. I had insinuated she was having an affair with Raoul de Chagny. Once I had bitten into her, she had only done what was fair and snapped back at me. But even so, I couldn't help but wonder if this was to be the first of many times she would voice her displeasure.

There was one thing I could not deny. Julia had done me an honor by allowing me into her home and into her bed. Perhaps I had never lived up to her expectations. Again I questioned my manhood.

A ragged sigh rattled past my lips. The clock chimed ten in the morning. I hadn't eaten supper the night before and I hadn't come down to breakfast. I had done nothing. For eight days I had done nothing but think about Julia. More than anything I wanted to knock on her door and ask her to explain what she meant by her comment. It was strangling every aspect of my life. If I survived the next thirteen days I would be able to ask her.

Complete and utter misery! How could something I wanted so badly make me feel so sick inside?

I would have remained in my room holed up in bed for the day had there not been a knock at the front door.

There was a woman in a dark green dress standing on the front steps with a large package at her feet. She had dark hair twisted into a bun and an attractive oval-shaped face. Her cheeks were red from the cold.

"May I help you?" Meg asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for Alexandre."

After I had studied her for a moment I knew I had never seen her before. I wondered what she wanted with Alexandre. My only hope was that he had the sense to stay out of trouble for a while. Between him and Julia, I would be in my grave before the week's end.

While the woman chatted with Meg she looked up. I was certain our eyes met. She had no reaction but I swear she looked me right in the eye. I stepped away and held my breath. Something was afoot.

Who was this woman with a box looking for my son? I opened the latch on the window to listen to their conversation.

"He is out at the moment. May I help you with something?"

"Yes, he purchased a phonograph at the Exhibition several weeks ago. His order arrived and I wanted to deliver it personally."

Bloody hell! A phonograph, indeed!

"A phonograph?"

"Yes, would you like a demonstration?"

"Ooh! Come in, please," Meg replied. "I've never seen a real phonograph before though I've heard about them."

Damn it, Meg! The last thing I wanted in my house was a phonograph. Bloody imitation of real music. As if I didn't have enough to pound me into the bowels of hell, here came some woman with her twisted bun and her phonograph to further irritate me.

I reached for my wig and stomped down the stairs, muttering curses to myself.

"They only cost eleven hundred francs," Phonograph Swindler said.

Eleven hundred francs. Well, that certainly explained my unbalanced checkbook.

Meg led the woman with the contraption into the parlor. I paused at the bottom of the stairs and straightened my hair enough to be presentable. The hairpiece would be the least of my concerns. Once she saw my face she would leave my house screaming.

"Alexandre had eleven hundred francs?" Meg asked.

"He had a checkbook with him. I helped him fill in the amount."

Meg didn't reply immediately. She must have been terrified on Alexandre's behalf. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name…."

"My name is Hermine Leach."

I recognized her first name. This was the woman Alex had mentioned meeting at the Exhibition. How convenient that he had failed to mention the purchase of a phonograph. No wonder she was so nice to him. Anyone with a blank check could be a close friend.

"Leach? Are you married to Archie?"

Phonograph Swindler Hermine Leach laughed. "Oh heavens, no, he's my brother."

I remained against the wall like an eavesdropping spider. Who was Archie Leach?

"My mother mentioned that she met him last week. How is he? Have you both settled into the new house?"

"Archie? He's very well, thank you. He carried the phonograph for me but was in a terrible hurry. He's always running about. I believe he was stopping by one of the neighbor's houses on his way back to the Exhibition. Have you been to the Exhibition yet? Today we have two tins for the price of one."

"I'll have to tell Erik."

"Your husband?"

Meg laughed. "No, no. My husband is Charles. Erik is Alexandre's father."

"Oh, you're not his mother?"

"No, I'm…his Aunt."

Hermine Leach paused. Papers shuffled. "I'm afraid I need his mother or father to sign for the delivery. Would his father be available? I haven't met him yet."

"He's a very reserved man," Meg stammered to explain. "He spends most of his time working upstairs. I could take the paperwork up to him—," she said as she walked into the hallway and saw me standing there. Her lips parted though she said nothing.

I motioned her toward me. She excused herself from the parlor and tiptoed her way to the stairs with her hands balled around her apron.

"Who is she?"

"She just moved into MonsieurLeFrond's old house."

"Where did M LeFrond go off to?"

"He died. Two months ago," Meg answered.

I sighed and crossed my arms. Monsieur LeFrond had been a grouchy old gargoyle who had decided that the neighborhood needed to take a vow of silence. On more than one occasion he had hollered at me to stop playing the violin.

"We're not keeping the damned thing. You tell her to leave at once."

Heels clicked the floor. "You must be Alexandre's father. Well how do you do? I'm afraid I didn't realize so many people shared the same house. You're just as quiet as a ghost," Hermine Leach said from the parlor doorway.

I immediately covered my face with my hand and turned away. Even though I had every intention of telling her to leave, I panicked instead. "What do you want?" I asked as I stared at the wall.

"I would love to show you how your new phonograph works."

"We do not need a phonograph." I glared at her from between my fingers but she smiled at me with her dark red lips. No wonder Alexandre had bought a phonograph from this woman. Her smile was enough to convince a drowning man to buy a glass of water.

"If you'll step into the parlor I'm sure you'll disagree, once you see how fantastic it truly is, Monsieur…"

"Kire," I replied.

"Are you related to the composer?"

Slowly I pulled my hand away from my face. "I am the composer."

This woman was worse than a gypsy. Her smile only widened when she gazed back at me. She waved her arm to usher me into the parlor—_my _parlor.

"My brother would be most delighted to meet you. He is a musician himself, though I daresay he is not near the caliber you are in your career. He will be most impressed when I tell him I have made your acquaintance. Now, if you will, Monsieur Kire, let me show you what we can do for your music."

I stood in the threshold with my arms crossed as I stared at the box. So this was a replacement for opera houses. It would never work. Why would anyone want to hear music confined to a box? The very idea was repulsive. The tone, the pitch…none of it would be correct.

My mind wandered as Mademoiselle Leach continued rambling about her godforsaken phonograph. A night at the opera would have been an ideal evening. Julia and I could spend the night in our own box with the lights turned low for privacy.

I wondered if Madeline still had contacts there.

"…I have Elgar's Salut D'Amour. Have you heard that one?"

She was still talking. I glanced at her. "No."

A night filled with music. It was the perfect opportunity to share her company and my greatest joy. Perfect. It would be perfect!

"Well, then…" Hermine started again.

"If you'll excuse me," I said. I turned away from Meg and the woman now attempting to sell me tins to go with my phonograph.

"Don't you want to see how it works?"

"Another time."

To hell with this confounded phonograph. I would ask Julia immediately if she would accompany me to the opera. This could not wait thirteen days.


	5. Archie Leach

_Who am I? Where are we? I think someone sold Alex a phonograph. I am going to Julia's._

Ch 5

The opera was the first good idea I had found in eight days of scouring my brain. I was rather excited as I walked out of my kitchen, strolled across the backyard and entered Julia's yard. Even though I wanted to see her, I swore I would not stay longer than was necessary. I would merely ask her if she was interested in attending a performance. From there, I would have Madeline handle the arrangements.

The revelation made me smile. At last the gray clouds had parted and I had found a scrap of sunshine. It was about damned time.

The back door was locked, which I hadn't expected. I considered walking to the front of the house but settled on knocking. I waited several moments and heard nothing but decided to try again. In the last eight days I had spent a great deal of time staring out the bedroom window at her house. She kept the curtains drawn, though they were sheer. My imagination filled in the details of her standing by the sink and walking past the bedroom window. I wondered if she knew I watched her from afar, soaking up the small rituals of her daily life, lapping up each nuance of what lay only a hundred paces from my grasp.

After I knocked a third time I was prepared to return home. I assumed she must have been at the market or out visiting friends. Part of me felt disheartened by the knowledge that she had other people in her life. Though I was glad she enjoyed the company of others, it still stung me deep inside. I didn't know what it was. Jealousy, perhaps, or trepidation that one day she would invite me over at the same time she had her lady friends call.

"Just a moment," Julia called out.

I straightened my collar and brushed my sleeves. The wig I had put on for Hermine Leach remained in place. It gave me greater confidence though it seemed far less comfortable than it had in the twenty-some years I had previously worn hairpieces.

"Erik? What are you—?"

"I have a question."

"About what? We agreed on three weeks."

"I wanted—"

Behind her something moved and snatched away my words. There was a man standing in her kitchen. A tall, handsome man with dark eyes and dark hair stood in the doorway. He was struggling not to stare at me. I wasn't sure if it was because Julia had company at her back door or if he was trying to decide whether I was a corpse or a human being. Whatever his intention, I hated him. This man, this person had no right being in her home.

Eight days ago I had been in her kitchen. Nine days ago I had stayed in her guest room. She had forgotten me.

"Erik, what did you—?"

"Who—who the hell is he?" I asked. My hand crept up to my face again and hid most of the deformity.

"This is Archie Leach. He's a new neighbor, he…"

My God these parasites were everywhere. First one had invaded my home and now another Leach was inside Julia's as well.

"What does he want?" I demanded. A half-dozen ideas sprang into mind concerning what he could want from her.

Julia glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to me. "Mr. Leach is from Bristol, England. He just moved into Monsieur LeFrond's old house. Do you want to come inside?"

How I hated that old bastard for dying and leaving his house available to strangers.

"I wanted to speak with you," I said quietly as I looked away from her and stared at the man in her kitchen. He had turned away from me to study a painting on the kitchen wall.

"Archie and his sister are coming over for lunch on Friday. A few of the neighbors are also coming over. Erik—Erik are you listening?"

"Neighbors and lunch," I muttered. I couldn't take my eyes off of this threat to my happiness.

"You are more than welcome to join us," she said. She leaned in closer and pinched my arm. "Erik, come inside and sit down. I just made lemonade."

"Is he the reason we agreed on three weeks?" I asked.

"Erik, please come inside."

Rage prevented me from uttering another word. I gave her a curt nod, attempted to kill Archie Leach with my eyes, and turned back to my own house.

Archie Leach. What in the hell kind of name was that, anyway? I hated the English. Damn island never produced anything of value. Bloody invaders sending one of their own to steal my Julia from me.

So this was why Julia had wanted to wait three weeks. Another man had come to her home, one with a bright smile and thick, dark hair. An Englishman with a whole face rather than leftover scraps collected from a slaughterhouse. A civilized person worthy of an invitation for lunch had shown up at Julia's, not a grotesque beast.

I slammed the back gate so hard that the wood cracked around the latch. For a moment I considered kicking it as the door hadn't properly closed but I stopped myself. My lips felt damp and I realized my nose was running.

Weakness. Emotion was nothing but weakness. I ran the back of my hand over my nose and lips and felt the uneven flesh. Three weeks. She had wanted to wait three weeks before she faced this thing again. I had been such a fool.

Christine had gone weeks without seeing me. She had found Raoul de Chagny to occupy her time and buy her little gifts. Now Julia had a suitor, an aesthetically perfect suitor who could take her on long walks and nights at the opera.

Lips trembling, I dragged myself to the kitchen and left the door open behind me. Had Meg not been standing by the sink with a meat cleaver I would have screamed, but as it was, I had given her enough of a scare by my entrance alone. She looked at me a moment before turning away.

"Should I leave?" she asked.

"Did you know about him?" I asked. I turned and took my hand from my face.

Meg carefully set her knife down beside the defeathered chicken she was preparing. She wiped her soiled hands on her apron and turned partially to face me. "About who?"

"The man courting Julia. Did you know about the man courting Julia?"

She shook her head again and turned back to the cutting board. With a chop she took off the chicken's head and stuck her fingers down into the breast to pull out the gizzards.

"She said she was courting someone?"

"She didn't have to say anything. He was in her kitchen."

Meg tossed the chicken heart onto the cutting board. She continued working while I pulled up a chair at the small table and sat with my head in my hands. I couldn't understand why Julia would do this to me after all these years. She had asked for time so that she could finally be rid of me.

"Maybe he was a salesman," Meg said with her back to me. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye and attempted to change the subject. "Lunch will be finished soon."

Hunger was the least of my concerns. I stared at my joined hands on the kitchen table and considered what to do. I didn't want to forget Julia. I was devastated, I was angry, but I was still very much in love with her.

"He's not a salesman," I said. I glanced up at Meg. She hadn't bothered to turn around but she nodded. I watched her for a moment as she arranged chicken pieces and vegetables into a baking dish. Without a sound I rose from the table.

"Are you sure?" Meg asked. She turned unexpectedly and blushed. "I didn't mean to pry. I'll bring lunch to your room when it's done."

It was only Meg, but I felt guilty for attempting to sneak out of the kitchen. I sat down again and sucked on the inside of my cheek. Sitting alone would be worse. I may as well sit with Meg for a while.

Meg Giry. When she had first started out in the ballet, all she had needed was a tail and she would have been the perfect tittering mouse. The other girls in the ballet were terrible to her. She only made things worse by holding her breath when she was upset. Her face would turn red, her cheeks puffy, and within seconds she would burst into tears at their teasing.

"It was that Leach fellow," I replied at last. "How many are there? Two, three dozen crawling about Paris?"

"Only Hermine and Archie, as far as I know," Meg replied. She walked across the kitchen. I noticed her grimace almost as much as I noticed her limp. "You know he once worked for Julia's father?"

"No," I answered miserably.

With my head again resting in my hands, I watched her as she took a plate from the cupboard and set it down before me. A soft groan escaped her lips when she pivoted on her right knee and went back to the sink.

Madeline insisted it was a dancer's injury. She had forced Meg to quit the ballet corps following the incident with the chandelier. Though Madeline swore her daughter had twisted her knee the last night of rehearsals I knew it wasn't so. I had watched the last rehearsal and knew Meg had done no such thing. The terrified crowd scrambling to exit the opera house had been the end of her dancing career. I knew this because I had heard Meg telling Charles about her knee one night.

Every aspect of that last night at the opera house was the bane of my existence. Madeline had lost her job, Meg had lost her career, and I had lost Christine.

We didn't speak for a while. Meg continued to prepare lunch. She brought a bottle of wine up from the cellar.

"I found my ballet slippers," she said after a while. A soft giggle escaped her mouth. "But there were no chocolates."

I grunted. "Quite honestly, I never took your shoes. There were far greater things to steal than your ballet slippers." I tapped my knuckles on the tabletop and half-smiled. "Though I stumbled upon them often enough."

She turned and smiled. "You always left them in the same place."

We both spoke at once, answering in unison that her shoes always ended up in her mother's small flat.

"She always yelled at me for being so empty-headed."

"Yes, I heard."

Meg leaned up against the counter and crossed her arms. "She yelled at you too, didn't she?"

"No one 'yelled' at me. Though perhaps they should have. Maybe none of this would have happened," I said as I rose to my feet. "Send lunch upstairs."

"He's known Julia since they were both toddling around," Meg said before I left. "She hasn't seen him in years."

_

* * *

_

_a/n Yes, Archie Leach was named for my absolute FAVORITE actor, Cary Grant. Kudos to all of you who knew it. And HD, he might just say Ju-lie Ju-lie Ju-lie! Great idea! _

_Also, should ff break down again, go to my homepage. It will be updated there_


	6. The Thing in the Mirror

_I would like to thank all of you for addressing feedback to me rather than Gabrina. Your correspondence means much to Gabrina, even though she is only a voice in my head._

Ch 6

I stared blankly at Meg for a moment and waited for her to elaborate. She began wringing her hands and searching for something to keep herself occupied while I was still in the kitchen.

"Years?" I asked.

"They were childhood friends. His sisters used to watch Julia and her brothers when the Falchettis traveled to Bristol for the summer," Meg replied. "Hermine told me when she was showing me the phonograph."

"Childhood friends," I muttered. "Just like Christine and her lover."

Meg's hands dropped to her sides and her face flushed. "Oh, no," she said quietly. "No, that's not what I…Monsieur Kire…please…"

This was a nightmare all over again. By the time I closed and locked my bedroom door I was shaking with despair. Christine also had not seen the vicomte in years. The moment he entered her life again mine had ended.

Julia's betrayal left me devastated. Each second that passed increased my misery. I stood and stared at the wall for a while then drew the curtains and sat at the desk with my back to the mirror.

All I could think about was Archie Leach, England's magnificent export. I stared at a sheet of unfinished music and knew I should have expected this. Julia wasn't a young woman but she was young enough. She belonged with a man like Archie Leach. She could bear his children, raise his family, love him and please him.

She knew I had no desire for more children. The risk of a son or daughter inheriting more of my appearance than hers was one I was unwilling to take.

I had nothing to offer her save a healthy bank account. However Julia was not a woman obsessed with fine jewels or furs. She was content in her modest home and furnishings. She would be well cared for by a man like Archie Leach. He would accompany her to the park during the day and show her off on his arm to all of his wonderful friends. They would sit at the table and enjoy dinner together with Lisette and eventually a little Archie Jr. as well. The longer I sat the more I pictured their family. The worst part of it was I could imagine Julia creating a family, of relinquishing the name Seuratti and proudly calling herself Julia Leach.

It was a dreadful name. If I were him, I would have considered changing it to something more impressive, something grand.

I hated him. I hated Archie Leach.

My stomach growled as the smell of lunch drifted into my room. Meg was talking to someone in the kitchen. By the high pitch of her voice I guessed it was probably Bessie looking for a scrap. I was ravenous and livid, which made my stomach churn.

Hate flooded my mind and drowned all rational thought. I rose from my place at the desk, removed the hairpiece and gently laid it on the wig stand. Revulsion for myself caused me to turn and face the mirror at my back. My feet dragged along the floor until I stood at arm's length from the appalling reflection.

There were no more bruises to hide the disfigurement, no bandages to conceal or stitches to hold it all together. I removed my waistcoat and set it aside. The cravat came off next and was neatly folded on the bed. Cufflinks went into my trouser pockets and the white shirt was unbuttoned and left open.

From the neck down I was a man. Certainly not Adonis by any means, but I was human at least. I stared at my torso, at the movement of my stomach and chest as I breathed, at the dark trousers against fair skin. There was nothing defined or perfect but it was acceptable. No one would shun me from the neck down.

I insisted on punishment. I forced my eyes to look up and meet with the object considered a face. My eyes returned a glistening, loathsome stare. My face darkened, my lips parted and trembled.

"You coward," I whispered to myself. "You pathetic, sniveling, repulsive coward. How audacious of you to assume she would love you. How impudent of you to assume any living, breathing woman would ever prefer you to a real man."

I stepped forward, nearing the beast before my eyes. My right eye streamed with tears and my nose had started to run again. The deformity ran deep, affecting my sinuses. Head colds had always put so much pressure in my head that I thought I would die. I had been fortunate to enjoy good health for the majority of my life. But now my foolish emotions made my eyes water more than simply tear up. I was reduced to a weeping imbecile.

"Look at what you are. Look at what you've become," I muttered at the creature staring back at me. I grit my teeth and took another step until the only things I could see was that terrible, terrible, hideous thing.

Julia didn't deserve this eternal hell. She could return to this face or wake up beside Archie Leach. There was hardly a decision to be made. As far as I was concerned, she had already made her choice.

I turned from the mirror, pressed the button on the wall, and smelled the heady scent of the cellar greet me. I lit the candle on the writing desk and carried it as I stepped into the darkness. There was only one thing on my mind. Julia could choose Archie Leach or I could kill him.

Unfortunately for Archie, I was not in a mood to lose again.


	7. Into the Cellar

_In my anger, I disappeared into the cellar. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading, both those who leave feedback and those who quietly adore me. I nagged Gabrina into purchasing Enhanced Stats. I was pleasantly surprised. Gabrina was beside herself. More people are reading my story than was first anticipated. For that, thank you. Now review! It irritates me when I am ignored. _

Ch 7

With each step I took into the dark abyss, the more faulted my plan seemed. I'll be damned. I was having second thoughts about killing someone.

Murdering Archie Leach would have been in vain. Julia would know his death was at my hands and she wouldn't have been forgiving. Her husband died because he didn't deserve to live. However, I doubted she would believe a childhood friend was in need of strangling.

The more I thought about it the less inclined I was to strangle him. For the moment I had been enraged, but at my age I lacked the stamina to keep the pot boiling. It took too much effort on my part to plan his death, as I assumed I would have to kill him in his own home. That would make it a double homicide as I would have to kill his sister as well. Everything was too involved. With a sigh of disgust my plans once again abandoned me. That damn Archie Leach would continue to live, along with his phonograph selling twit of a sister.

My adoration for Julia had clearly softened me over the years.

The world despised me. It was the only explanation I could come up with as I stood alone on my half of the cellar. I thought about the two reasons I had given Julia to consider our marriage. Now I only had one compelling reason. A childhood friend had come back to see her. Of all things! A childhood friend.

The longer I remained on the dirt floor, the more my teeth chattered and body shivered in the damp cold. I cursed Garnier for only finishing the proper side of the cellar. The walls were rough dirt and clay, the stairs rickety wood. It was more of a rabbit hole than a cellar.

It had been a mistake to walk into the cellar half-dressed. I heard Meg walking around the other side of the cellar. I buttoned my shirt again while she rummaged through the wine bottles. I could hear the soft clink of glass.

"Has Erik eaten yet?" Madeline asked. By how distant her voice sounded I assumed she was standing at the top of the stairs.

I hadn't realized she would be home already. I backed toward the stairs like a child caught with a handful of ill-gotten candy. It seemed a foolish gesture since they couldn't see me, but Madeline always seemed to have a sixth sense. She knew whenever I was up to something.

"It just came out of the oven," Meg replied.

"Well, feed him," Madeline barked.

I had half the mind to tell her to mind herself. Feed me? Indeed, Madame Giry!

"I don't think he wants to see anyone," Meg said. Her voice lowered.

Madeline scoffed. "What is it this time?"

"Nothing," Meg replied. "It's nothing."

Her answer surprised me. I had always thought of Meg as a little snitch. Even though it had been almost ten years I still thought of her as a little girl in the dance troupe.

"What do you mean 'nothing'? Did you speak with him?"

Meg sighed. "Yes, earlier. I'll be up in a moment. Which wine do you think is better with Rosemary chicken? This one or that one?"

"That one."

"The Dupree? Fine. Don't touch the food! I'll take it upstairs."

The other side of the wall became silent. Once I heard the door shut, I turned to an old trunk and flipped both latches. Amongst the moth-devoured clothes and a few things I had taken from the old opera house were several masks, some stark white, others pure black.

Black suited my mood; a satin black covering over the ruined side of my face. With two in hand, I walked back up the stairs and entered my bedroom.

Meg knocked on the door the moment I closed the wall behind me.

"I have your lunch," she said.

She had come from the kitchen to my door faster than I had expected. In haste I left both masks on the dresser and unlocked the door. Meg stood with a tray in hand. Behind her was Julia. The moment our eyes met, I turned and covered my face with my hand.

"Erik," Julia said.

I started to close the door but Meg pulled a nasty little trick. She put her foot out and stopped me from shutting it by yelping in pain.

"My bad leg!" she said, sucking a breath in through her teeth. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

It was a terrible ruse but effective nonetheless. I stared at her a moment before opening the door and taking the tray from her hands. It seemed traits of the little dancer still existed.

"How kind of you both to pay a visit," I said dryly. "To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?"

Meg turned and walked away. "I'll return for the tray in an hour unless you wish to bring it down yourself."

She trotted down the stairs before I had a chance to reply. I saw her glance over her shoulder and smile as she turned the corner and disappeared into the kitchen. She had left me alone with Julia.

What I had once wanted I suddenly dreaded.

"Did you send him on his way?" I asked. I turned from her and set the tray on the writing desk. "Did you…" I couldn't bring myself to ask her if she had satisfied him. As much as I wanted to scream and berate her, to humiliate her completely, I couldn't stand hurting her. I was besotted. I was up to my ears in love for Julia.

"You may say whatever you wish. It's deserved," Julia admitted.

It didn't lessen the blow at all. If anything it made me feel much worse. She was everything to me and she knew it. My nose began to run again as I stood with my back to her and stared at the desk. My list for her was neatly laid out beside an inkwell. It was nothing but a waste of my time to come up with additional reasons for her to marry me. Her affection was nothing more than an intangible dream.

"Is this why you wanted three weeks away from me? To find a man to love you, a man to take care of you the way I will—will never be able to care for you?" My voice started to abandon me. I took a deep, shuddering breath and glanced at her from over my left shoulder. "Why? Why Julia, why?"

"He's a boy I knew from Bristol."

"I know," I replied. My eyes shut, containing the wetness against my eyelashes. "Your family went on holiday there over the summer."

"Erik, I know what it must have seemed like."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do. Why do you think I wanted you to come inside? I knew how it looked and I don't blame you."

I pulled the chair out and collapsed, pulling at my thin hair with my fingers. "Will he make you happy? That's all I want to know, Julia. Will he make you happy?"

She sighed. "I don't know what he would do. I have no interest in him and he considers me as a sister. There will never even be the possibility of courtship. If you will come to lunch on Friday you will meet his sister--"

"I already met that little weasel."

Julia's skirts swished as she walked into the room. "You met Hermine?"

My throat had tightened so much that I couldn't bring myself to answer with anything more than a nod.

"He plays the violin," Julia said suddenly. She stepped farther into the room until she stood directly behind me. "If you knew him, you would enjoy his company."

"As much as you do? Or does he reserve his pleasure for only you, Madame Seuratti."

"Erik—"

"If you've chosen him over me, tell me this moment. Allow me that much dignity at least."

She placed her hands on my shoulders. It was the greatest and most miserable sensation. All of my affection for Julia surfaced in one mammoth, pathetic sob of desperation and longing. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

"Erik, please trust me. I trust you—"

"Of course you trust me!" I turned and shouted. "Look at me! Who would have this?"

She pulled my hand from my face. "I would have you. For the rest of my life. But you must trust me, Erik. Archie has been a long time friend and nothing more."

"Nothing more," I muttered.

"He stopped by today because his sister had told him that I still lived in the old house," I started to turn away from her but she stopped me. "Erik, he called because his mother died and he wanted me to know. That was why he came to the house."

"An unmarried man, an unmarried woman—"

"Erik—"

"It's not so different from our arrangement save you can take him out in the light of day."

"You're not insulting yourself, you're insulting me. After everything that happened, do you honestly think I would hurt you like this? After—after five years of knowing you, why would I do something like that to you?"

"I don't know what you would do."

She looked away from me and went quiet for a moment. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. Despite my own pain I didn't want to hear her like this. Her crying was the worst sound in the world.

Julia folded her arms and turned to face me again. "I was glad to see you today. I didn't realize how long three weeks could be until you weren't there anymore. When you left—"

"I wanted to ask you something," I said before she could finish. I cleared my throat and nodded at her to speak.

She stammered. "Would you like to ask now?"

"Two things. I want to ask you two things." I said. She nodded readily. "Must you speak to that man?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Erik, I don't want to have to choose between our courtship and a childhood friend."

"Fine, you needn't answer right this moment. I have another question for you. Would you attend the opera with me?" I asked.

Her lips parted. I swallowed hard and stared at her.

"I would love to attend the opera with you," Julia smiled.

* * *

Another "Easter Egg"! Didja catch it? 


	8. Interruption

_From the last chapter: The "Easter Egg" was the Dupree Vineyards mention, which started with Shadows, was mentioned in Heart and is also in Noir. DV also makes a guest appearance in my novel and a few other stories. Check out Shadows for the full Dupree experience!_

_There is a cafepress store now dedicated to Dupree! It should be linked on my webpage. All proceeds go to the ASPCA as mentioned in Goddess Noir. _

_Erik?_

_Woman! You're ruining my story with your notes! Julia came to pay a visit. I asked her to the opera._

Ch 8

Her words caused me to release a sigh of relief I hadn't realized was waiting in my lungs. She agreed to the opera. She agreed to a night out with me. I still had a chance to ask for Julia's hand.

Julia leaned against me and put her hands against my hips. If the bedroom door hadn't been ajar I would have carried her off to bed and made the afternoon a pleasant one.

"You have nothing to fear. Have you forgotten we have longevity?" she said with a soft chuckle. Her fingers gently, suggestively squeezed my sides. "For eight days I've thought about what you said."

"I apologize for not leaving you with something more poetic to consider."

I felt her laugh against my chest, creating a warm sensation in my heart. She smiled and looked up at me. I had missed those hazel eyes and the little bump on the bridge of her nose. The memory of sandalwood was not nearly as sweet as smelling it in her hair.

"What show are we attending?" she asked as she combed my hair back with her fingers.

I blinked at her. "I'm not certain yet."

"Who will be singing?"

"I don't know."

"When are we going?"

Her questions irritated me. It had been foolish to ask her to attend when I didn't even know if Madeline or Meg could acquire tickets for a performance. I didn't even know what shows were being performed as I hadn't paid much mind to the papers. For weeks there was nothing but talk of the Exhibition and other nonsense that didn't interest me.

"I…well, you must understand, Julia, these things take time."

Julia solemnly nodded. "Did you just think about it today?"

"And what if I did?" I asked defensively as I stepped away and turned my back on her. She had me tied up in knots. By the time she left I would be writhing in convulsions on the floor and begging for mercy.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Erik. I just thought by your earlier reaction that you would fight me on the concept of courtship. I'm glad you've reconsidered."

"I haven't reconsidered. I think it's a dreadful notion," I lied. "But for you—if this is what you want—then I'll agree." I glanced at Julia and saw her smiling. There was a glimmer of triumph in her eyes that I didn't comprehend. She had an unfair advantage in a game where I had no concept of the rules. "I would do anything for you—even consent to this outlandish form of torture."

Julia shook her head at me and pulled the chair out from the writing desk. She looked so at ease sitting at the desk that I nearly forgot she had never been upstairs before. Our visits always took place in her home. It was strangely arousing that she was suddenly in my home, in my bedroom.

"Well, if you think this is torture then Friday will be the death of you. Hermine and Archie are coming for tea and crumpets at 2:30. You may come at two if you wish, but it is strictly for meeting the new neighbors and nothing more."

"I don't recall agreeing to tea and crumpets."

Julia turned her head to the side. Her tongue was in her cheek. "Then I suppose I will see you in thirteen days. Thank you for having me over today."

My backbone withered away. She had absolute control over my every thought and action. We weren't even officially courting and I already I felt castrated. Her hold over me was irritating. "What is the purpose of waiting three weeks?"

"I thought it would be beneficial to start our relationship over."

"And tea with the Leach Duo?"

Julia frowned at me and raised a brow. "Don't you think it would be a lovely change to meet some of your neighbors?"

"No."

She turned away and sighed. "You've lived in this house for nine years. Few of them even know you live here."

She was saying nothing of interest to me. I shrugged off her comment.

When Julia turned again she was holding the two black masks, one in each hand. She frowned at me.

"What?" I asked.

She looked the masks over and tossed them back onto the bed. Even though she didn't say a word, I knew she was disappointed. "I was just telling Archie about you."

"What? What did you tell him about me?" I demanded as I stepped toward her.

"That you are a composer and musician. I told him your last name was Kire and he was very excited to have you as a neighbor."

"Fascinating," I said dryly.

"He's seen some of your work performed. He admires your talent. I do believe he was more disappointed than I was when you left."

Her inane comment received an eye roll from me. I threw my hands in the air. "Am I courting him as well now?"

"You may ask him at tea on Friday," she replied with a sly grin.

She stood again and walked toward me. I wondered when she had become so feisty and free with her tongue. Clearly she had no fear of me. It was an odd feeling to know there was at least one person who looked at me with indifference.

"Will you survive two more weeks?" she asked as she stood with her hands clasped before her.

Lurid thoughts filled my head and I glanced at the bed. "Two weeks?"

"Oh, Erik, there are people downstairs."

"They'll stay downstairs," I attempted to reason. "I'll shut the door—"

"Father! Did you see the phonograph!" Alexandre yelled. He stomped up the stairs and threw the door open so hard that it hit the wall.

"Good Lord, Alexandre!" I grumbled.

"It's amazing!" Alexandre exclaimed.

"It's horrendous," I replied. "And what in the world are you doing shouting like that?"

For once it was probably a good thing that he shouted as he climbed the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Madame Seuratti. What are you doing here?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"We were just talking."

"Oh."

"What did you need, Alexandre?" I asked.

"Erik!" Julia scolded.

I turned back to her. "What?"

"He hasn't done any harm. Besides, Alex, I was just about to return home. It was good seeing you both today."

Alex frowned at Julia. "Don't you want to see the new phonograph?"

"Oh for God's sake, it's a monstrosity that creates artificial music! What is there to see?" I asked. They had me so agitated that I walked around in a circle. It was galling that my bedroom had suddenly become a conclave in support of the phonograph.

"Well you may sit up here and sulk while Alexandre and I have a listen," Julia said. She took Alex by the hand. "I would be honored to have you show me your new phonograph. I think it's quite exciting."

"Not as exciting as real music," I muttered.

Julia glanced at me before she left the room. "Which reminds me. Bring your violin on Friday. I promised Archie you would play with him. He's looking forward to hearing a true master play."

"Julia!" I shouted in protest but by the time I had recovered my voice she had already left the room with Alexandre. The two were laughing and cooing over that ridiculous thing from that horrid woman.

Murdering Archie suddenly seemed like a decent idea again. The last thing I wanted to do was give some mindless twit violin lessons. I may as well have offered him Julia's hand at the same time. He was perfect. Why would he want anything to do with my music? What more could he obtain?

My thoughts were interrupted by the most dreadful noise I had ever heard. I instantly looked down to make certain I hadn't stepped on Bessie's tail. The dog was nowhere to be found.

That damned phonograph!

"She even gave me a free tin!" Alex said.

"How nice."

"I didn't know you knew my friend Hermine."

_Friend._ That was a term Alexandre used quite freely.

"Yes, I grew up with her, her brother, and her older sister."

There was really no other choice. I refused to be left alone in favor of a box and a conversation involving the Leach Family Tree.

"I met her brother, too. Madame Seuratti, what happened to him?"

I paused in the doorway and listened.

"Archie was in an accident."

"Really? When?" Alexandre asked, his voice filled with macabre delight.

"It was a very long time ago. Now play another song, Alex."


	9. Waltz

Julia thought she was clever in telling me I would play the violin at her gathering. I will not be commanded!

Ch 9

An accident. Julia may have distracted Alex with a bit of imitation music but I was not so easily swayed. Judging by the looks of him, my dear new friend Monsieur Leach must have been attempting to steal another man's lady.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, eyes narrowed in contemplation. What sort of accident could he have suffered? He was standing, so it couldn't have been an accident which had rendered his legs useless. His arms were at his sides and I had seen both hands.

For all intent and purpose he had seemed quite ordinary. He bore no visible scars, though I suppose he could have had some hidden by clothing.

But how would Alexandre have known?

Frankly, I didn't much care what happened to Leach. There were far greater concerns saturating my mind.

The whole prospect of courtship was becoming intolerable. For the majority of my years I had control over my life and what I did. I had my own funds, my own home, and my own means of keeping my bank accounts filled which supported my standard of living. Julia was completely out of line in her attempts to order me about. I would not lie down and show her my belly merely because I was fond of her. I would not jump at her every command. If memory served me correctly, the wedding vows would say that Julia would honor and obey me. It was her place as the feeble-minded female to do as I said when I said it. From what she had planned for Friday night, she was hardly following those marital vows.

Then again, I reminded myself, we were not married.

I paced the floor and cracked my knuckles. Lunch had gone cold. Meg and her damned Rosemary chicken! This was Paris! Rosemary chicken was unacceptable to serve at a French table.

"Did you know Monsieur Leach was attacked by an alligator?" Alex continued.

"An alligator? Now AlexI think he was just teasing you."

"No, he said he wrestled an alligator in Zimbabwe. Maybe that's how he was injured."

"Maybe."

"Who would win between a bear and a lion?"

"Did Archie tell you to ask question like that?"

They were both enamored with this man. I was surprised they didn't invite him over to listen to their poor examples of music. Aggravated by the two of them going on and on about Archie Leach and Julia's demand that I come to her house on Friday, I stomped down the stairs and entered the parlor.

She would not issue orders to me. I would put her in her place for once and for all! Foolish woman thinking she would issue the orders. I would not tolerate her a moment longer.

Meg was standing in the doorway as I approached. She looked at me and quickly moved away, mumbling that there was work to be done in the kitchen.

I straightened my lapels in preparation before marching into the parlor and setting things straight.

"Now, listen here, Madame Seuratti—"

Alex and Julia responded with laughter.

They didn't hear me. They were dancing. Julia and Alexandre were dancing and laughing in the parlor. The rug had been folded out of the way while the desk and chair had been moved aside.

I had never seen Alexandre smile as wide as he did while Julia taught him a simple waltz. He concentrated while she counted the steps, completely oblivious to me standing in the doorway.

"What a perfect little gentleman you are, Alex," Julia cooed as they took two steps back. "You're a natural dancer."

He stared at their feet when she complimented him. "Do you and Father dance when he visits you?"

"No," Julia replied, drawing the word out. "I'm afraid we never have danced."

"He just comes to talk?"

"Yes," Julia answered. She missed a step and ran her heel into the desk.

"What do you talk about?"

"Well…lots of things, Alex."

"Oh."

He seemed somewhat satisfied. His pensiveness made me apprehensive. His mind was like a slingshot. The longer he was silent the more force was behind his next question. I knew he had set Julia up for a shot between the eyes.

"Why so late?"

Julia rubbed her bruised heel. She saw me standing in the doorway and glared at me when she saw my smirk. Her cheeks turned crimson at his innocent question and I raised a brow at her. She would have to find her own way out of this labyrinth. With an easy smile I leaned against the doorway and waited for her answer.

"Because it is easier. Alex, do you have any more songs or have we exhausted our musical selections?" Julia asked. She pulled away from Alexandre and smoothed her skirt before straightening her hair.

"Come to join us?" Julia asked. She turned toward me and folded her arms.

"No, I've come to tell you that not only will I not be bringing my violin to Friday's soirée, I will not be attending."

She nodded slowly. The tables had turned against her. I had backed her into a corner and she could not escape. I would have my own way.

"Archie and Hermine will be very disappointed."

I ground my teeth together. "I don't give a—darn--!" I said because Alexandre was standing there. "I don't care if they are disappointed or ecstatic."

"Well, I will be disappointed as well, but I respect your decision." She patted my hand and smiled. "Will you walk me to the door?"

She walked past me and headed toward the foyer. Her response irritated me. She had nonchalantly strolled past without protesting my words. Even though I had no desire to attend her little English tea party, I still wanted at least a decent fight.

"I certainly hope the three of you have a fabulous time chatting," I said snidely.

She turned when she reached the front door and smiled again. "I'm certain we will have a fine afternoon. Perhaps if you leave the windows open you will hear Archie play. I understand Hermine is taking voice lessons."

"Together they probably sound just as pleasant as the phonograph."

"It will be like having an opera performed in my own home."

There was something about the way she spoke that ground against my nerves. She was being far too civil concerning my rejection of her invitation. My eyes narrowed as I stared at her.

"You need more than an idiot with a violin and some woman howling in accompaniment."

Julia shrugged. "Well I think it will be very enjoyable. We will miss your company," she said. She turned back to the door and waited for me to see her out.

I glanced down the hall to make certain no one was listening. When I was certain we were alone, I stepped forward and took her by the arm. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" she asked innocently.

"Attempting to force me into some frivolous gathering."

She shifted her weight and pulled her arm away. "Erik, I think if you knew Archie the two of you would find you have much in common with one another."

I glared at her. "I want nothing to do with him."

"Erik, you're overreacting. If you came to tea you would be able to see first-hand that you have nothing to worry about." She paused and offered a warm smile. "I know what you're concerned about. Trust me that Hermine and Archie are not the types of people who would ridicule you."

She was infuriating me with each word. "I don't like him."

"How can you say that? You don't even know him." Her voice remained pleasant which only further annoy me.

"I don't want to know him."

Julia turned her head to the side and exhaled through her mouth. "Well, I believe that is ignorant of you to say."

"The world has judged me each and every day of my life based on my appearance alone."

"Which is unfortunate," she agreed. "But now you are doing the same thing."

"Do not turn this around, Julia. I will be damned if you tell me what I can and cannot do. I have my own rules and reasoning. That will not change now, no matter what."

"I apologize. I only want you to be comfortable. I just assumed you would enjoy an afternoon at my house."

"Is this part of our courtship?" I asked.

She looked surprised by my question. "No, not exactly."

"Then I want no part of it. Enjoy your festivities with your handsome childhood friend and his songbird of a sister."

Julia was silent a moment. I turned away from her and grit my teeth again. The outburst did nothing to alter my mood. If anything I felt worse for behaving like a child. As much as I wanted to cover my face and walk away from her I stayed put and sulked with my back to her.

"Erik?"

"You don't know how difficult this is for me," I muttered.

"You're right, I don't. But I would love for you to join us. It would be an honor for both Hermine and Archie to meet such a talented composer and it would mean a lot to me if you wanted to spend the afternoon at my house."

I refused to turn and face her. She would not win. I would be damned if she would get the upper hand. From this moment on, things would be different.

"Will you be over at two or two-thirty?" Julia asked.

"Two," I sighed.


	10. The Instigator

Check out the Fan Fic part of Gabrina's website to see some signatures, banners, and even a photo of some fellow fans and readers. Have artwork you want to donate to the site? Anything concerning any of the five stories can be donated if you want it used on the site. Come check it out, sign the guest book, and see what Erik is up to.

_In my last chapter Julia manipulated me into agreeing to her party on Friday. Did I miss something? When did women take charge of something outside the kitchen?_

Ch 10

Damn it.

Julia was the most cunning creature in the world. She had made courtship into a bloody art form. I imagined her at home in her kitchen sharpening her carving knives and deciding how she would like to serve up my heart and manhood.

Once I left the front door with only a kiss to the cheek I was in no mood to speak to anyone. After all she had put me through I received a mere kiss on the cheek. I was allowed to kiss her hand and, as a gentleman does, kissed my own thumb.

There was absolutely nothing to be gained by this arrangement. It was nothing short of frustrating on every level. Eight days ago I had stood before her house thinking life with Julia would be the most magnificent way to spend the rest of my days. Now I may as well have been a trembling mass huddled in a corner.

I promptly went to the library and shoved the door open.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked.

Charles looked up at me. He didn't even seem surprised by my entrance. He raised his hand, finished whatever he was reading, and looked up at me from his wheelchair.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur."

"Honestly, it isn't. Charles—"

"I apologize, Monsieur, you had asked a question."

"Yes. Do you regret marrying Meg?"

He tore off his glasses and leaned forward. "I beg your pardon?"

"Does she irritate you?"

Charles chuckled. "Sometimes I believe it's her duty in this household. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." I crossed my arms. For all the trouble this hardly seemed worth it. We were not even courting and yet Julia was already killing me one second at a time.

"Is this about Madame Seuratti?"

"Generally speaking, would you say all women are out for blood?"

"Well…" he paused and we both listened to make certain the fairer sex wasn't snooping about."I wouldn't say all women. There are certainly a great deal of pleasant young women out there in the world, though I daresay we won't be meeting them anytime soon, Monsieur." He tapped his fingers on the wheelchair.

His comment made me smirk. He had a strange sense of humor concerning his own misfortune. "So then we settle?"

Charles shrugged. "If you can tolerate the bad days, you celebrate the good. I dare say that there are more good than bad."

That, at least, seemed hopeful.

"What do you do on the bad days?"

Charles smiled. By the wrinkles around his eyes it was evident he grinned frequently. "Agree with everything she says, Monsieur. It keeps everything intact, if you know what I mean."

Meg clopped down the hall like a horse and silenced the two of us. Charles and I exchanged wary glances and went about picking lint from our overcoats to look less conspicuous when she walked into the library.

"Why are you both so silent?" Meg asked. Her blue eyes were wide with curiosity.

"No reason, my dear. We were just having a discussion," Charles answered.

He was clearly cowed by his wife. This was what I had to look forward to for the remainder of my life. It was nauseating. It was like a bull being sold for breeding and ending up in the slaughterhouse. That was what I perceived out of the whole concept of courting and marriage. One thing was promised, another far less appealing conclusion was achieved.

"Well don't stop on my account."

Charles looked at me nervously. I shrugged. I wasn't about to risk us either strung up by the necks or poisoned at dinner.

"I believe Monsieur Kire was just leaving."

Don't mind if I do, Charles. He had a lot of gall. I stared at him and sighed.

"I suppose I was," I grumbled.

"How was your lunch?" Meg asked as she wiped down the desk with a rag.

"I haven't eaten yet."

"What? But now it will be cold."

"Well, so be it. If it's cold, it's cold."

She hesitated. It wasn't in her nature to take up an argument. "It will spoil," she said under her breath.

"In an hour? Highly unlikely."

"Well, you shouldn't eat it."

"The dog will eat it."

"And neither should the dog. She'll be ill."

I snorted at her. She never spoke back once I had said something. Her nerve fascinated me more than irritated the hell out of me. "You worry about such trivial things."

Meg turned away from me and began wiping down the table with such force that I expected she would burrow straight through the wood.

I watched her for a moment as she dusted the bookshelf. Charles reluctantly went back to his book though I suspect he prayed that I would leave more than he actually read. He began tapping his fingers along the arm of his wheelchair and fidgeting with the corner of the page.

"Did he leave—" Meg turned and saw me still standing in the doorway. "Oh."

Once my parents saw what I looked like they refused to have more children. I often wondered what it would have been like to have a brother or a sister. Though I doubt that even a sibling would have looked kindly upon me, I couldn't help but think Little Meg would have made for a most interesting sister. I had never thought so more than I did in that moment.

She would have found toads and mice in her shoes each morning.

"Oh," I said. I folded my arms and leaned against the doorway. I wasn't about to leave. There would be no more pleasant banter. She had annoyed me by hoping I would turn and leave.

Meg turned back around and furiously began dusting everything in sight. At least I had control over something still, even if it was only Meg.

"Suddenly at a loss for words, Madame Lowry?"

"No," she replied.

"Well, let's have it."

Charles refused to lift his eyes. He was breathing heavier. "How is it outside today, darling?"

"It's fine, dear," Meg replied. She glanced at me and turned back to her work.

Normally I had no patience but I was feeling quite ornery and decided to wait until Meg turned again. She had every intention of saying something snide once I was gone. If it was the only thing I accomplished, I would pry it out of her.

She moved behind the desk and began humming to herself. Charles sat and stared at the book in his hands. He had stopped turning pages. He looked like a man expecting the world to implode. If I had anything to say about it, the end of the world would indeed begin in my library.

"It's not real," Meg muttered to herself as she refolded the rag. She kept her head down and skittered toward the door. "Not real, not real, not real," she continued.

I spread my arms and held onto either side of the doorway to keep her from leaving until I was finished with her. "You will not speak behind my back. Is that clear, Madame Lowry?"

She wouldn't look me in the eye. She squeezed the dusting rag in her hands and continued to mutter to herself. Somewhere between her little chants she apologized.

"Please, Monsieur, she meant no harm," Charles said.

I looked from Meg to Charles and saw the absolute horror on his face. Meg's shoulder brushed my arm as she passed. All color had left her face as she broke from a hurried walk to a full jog down the hallway.

In the blink of an eye I recalled something that deeply disturbed me. There was a little blond child in her stiff ballet tutu with her bare feet squeaking on the dusty wooden floor. Her shoes, as always, were nowhere to be found.

Back and forth she searched the storage room, holding onto her braid with one hand as she mumbled to herself. From the catwalks I would watch her as she chewed her fingernails and held back a sob. She hated to venture into the prop rooms and beyond without anyone else around. The other girls would tell her the most dreadful stories. Had I not been the one doing the haunting I would not have gone anywhere alone in the theater either.

"It's not real," she would say. "Not real, not real, not real, the opera ghost is not real."

Her mother's voice snapped me away from my daydream. Madeline met Meg in the dining room.

"Why are you crying?" I heard Madeline ask.

"I'll be fine."

"Meg—"

"No, I'll be fine. Do you mind if I go for a short walk? I'll only be gone a moment."

"It's getting dark out."

"I won't walk far. Just down the street a bit."

"You should take Bessie with you. For protection."

Meg hesitated. I heard her grab the leash from the hook in the hallway. The sound elicited a howl from Bessie, who charged down from my bedroom at full gallop with the prospect of leaving the house.

"Meg, are you sure you are alright?"

"I'll be fine. I'll be just fine."

She glanced at me as she headed toward the foyer. Her eyes were red and her face swollen. I turned away once our eyes met and knew exactly what was wrong.

I still terrified Little Meg. After all of these years she was still attempting to convince herself that I was nothing more than a fable. Rather than satisfaction I felt a deep sense of despair. In the morning I had tolerated her presence fairly well. I almost enjoyed speaking with her. Now I had her twisted with fear again.

As much as I hated to admit it, I preferred the conversation to her tiptoeing about the house and avoiding me like the Plague.

She walked out the door with her walking cloak in one hand and Bessie's leash wrapped around the other. Madeline stepped into view, her arms crossed and face drawn tight. She looked at me and shook her head.

"Sometimes I think she is hysterical," Madeline said under her breath.

I looked at her but said nothing. Sometimes Meg was hysterical.

Madeline muttered to herself as she walked back into the kitchen and called Alexandre to help her peel potatoes. As silent as a mouse I took my own cloak off the hook and disappeared into the night.

It wasn't until I caught up with Meg that I had any idea where I was going or what I was doing.


	11. A Phantom and A Composer

_In the last chapter I upset Meg. Since she shouldn't be wandering about alone I went after her._

Ch 11

Meg's feet turned out when she walked. It was a habit from her days on the stage. Viewed from the back it was a subtle waddle with a slight favoring to the right side. Her leg bothered her in the damp night air. I had noticed her favoring her right leg about the house whenever it rained or snowed.

She was a pathetic sight limping along, attempting to clasp her cloak at her throat and hold onto Bessie's leash at the same time. I was tempted to just whisper "boo" as I came up alongside her and see what would happen, though I knew I had done enough for the day.

The closer I got the more I could hear her breathing heavily. She either didn't hear my light footfalls or chose to ignore me. Since I was quickly catching up to her with easy long strides, I decided to steady my pace and enjoy the night. It had been a while since I had seen the sunset. The western sky was streaked with purples and pinks. I could see the orange sun setting over the scattered trees and Mansard roofs through the thin fog of my breath.

I had always enjoyed the chill of night. No one looked twice at a man strolling about in a scarf and hat. I could walk into a cafe and order anything I wanted. I could take Bessie out for a walk and no one gave me peculiar looks as there was nothing to see. In the winter months, when the night was crisp, I was normal. I was only a man. Ordinary felt good.

The woman hobbling ahead of me still thought I was a ghost. We had shared the same home for the past nine years and yet she still tiptoed past me and shuddered at the sound of my voice.

The closer I got to her the faster she attempted to hobble away. She tripped on her cloak and her bad leg gave out. She released the leash as she began to tumble to the street. I managed to catch up just in time to keep her from falling to her knees.

She let out a squeak of surprise as my forearm pressed into her ribs with my fingers splayed below her breast. Had it not been Meg it would have been a pleasant opportunity, but she was Madeline's daughter. Holding her seemed far too intimate.

"Please let me go," she said, her voice strained with emotion. Apparently she found it far too intimate as well.

I stepped away and turned my back to her. Bessie had paused a few feet ahead of us and had flopped in the grass. With a vicious snarl she began chewing on her leash. She had no intention of wandering away. She probably knew she would starve out in the wilds of Paris.

I glanced at Meg, who was holding her hand over her mouth. Her other hand had swallowed up the gold crucifix at the end of her necklace. Her display irritated me. She thought of me as some evil spirit she needed to ward off.

"You were the only person I never bothered and still you are the one most afraid."

She refused to look at me. As she bent to grab the leash the dog got up and loped away, wiggling her rear in delight of her new game.

I found it humorous. Meg found it exasperating. She stopped after the third try and placed her hands on her hips. "Call your dog and take her back home."

"She's not my dog." I glanced around and spotted a bench nearby. I needed to sit down as I had a feeling this was going to take a while.

"Your son's dog then."

"Why did you bring her if you didn't want to walk her?"

She didn't say anything. I sighed in disgust and leaned back, spreading my arms out and crossing one foot over the other. I assumed that with my hood covering my head I looked like a lounging grim reaper. With a click of my tongue against the roof of my mouth Bessie lumbered over and plopped down beneath the bench.

Meg stood with her head down and shoulders slumped. She stared off into the distance, breathing through her mouth. The cloak she had tried so hard to clasp lay crumpled on the grass.

She was shivering. Just to spite me she would probably catch cold and die of pneumonia. I would never hear the end of it from Madeline. Charles would most likely find employment elsewhere rather than live in the same house as the man who had killed his wife, albeit in a roundabout way.

I rose to my feet and picked up the cloak and shook it out. It unfurled with a swooshing sound that made Meg jump. My God she was a skittish little thing.

"You'll freeze," I snapped as I walked around to face her. I scanned the darkening sky and held out her wrap.

She snatched it from my grasp and fumbled to put the brass hook through the lion's head clasp. The cold must have numbed her fingers and her trembling didn't help at all.

"Oh for God's sake, hold still!" I grumbled as I brushed her hands away and clasped it for her. She pulled away as my knuckles grazed her neck. "Unfortunately for you, Madame, I am real. By how well-cushioned your bank account is you should know that by now."

"I know," she said under her breath. She took a step back and ran her finger over the lion's head. "I know you're real."

She hadn't said much but I took her words as an insult. "And that makes it worse, doesn't it? You've shared a house with a monster, your money is that of the devil, you—"

"Only when you are ill-tempered."

"Ill-tempered?" I asked. Her word choice caught me off guard. No one had ever called me ill-tempered before. The word was not nearly strong enough to describe anything I had ever said or done.

"When you stomp about and yell."

"I know what ill-tempered means," I snarled. Perhaps my response was a bit ill-tempered. With a sigh I crossed my arms. "You all irritate me."

"Irritate you?"

"Is that honestly a surprise?"

Meg turned in a full circle. She looked apologetic. "How do I irritate you?"

"You irritate me by creeping around the house as though at any moment I will snatch you up and devour you. It's absurd that you still believe what those ridiculous dancers were always saying. You are old enough to realize dolls aren't made of real people. And with your mother always prowling about you would have been the last one I would have stolen for ballerina stew or dancer truffles or whatever else they fooled you into believing."

"That isn't what I think," she replied quietly.

"Then what do you think?"

"I think about the chandelier falling and everyone screaming. I think about…" Meg shook her head.

"What? Tell me," I demanded.

"I think about the phantom, not the composer. I don't want the phantom to be real," she said quickly.

My lips parted in shock. We were two different people: The Phantom of the Opera and the composer Erik Kire. I didn't know what to say. She had stunned me into silence.

"In the library he came back," Meg said quietly.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, what she said hurt me. Her opinion of me should not have mattered at all. Meg had always been a silly little girl, a foolish little pink-legged imp scurrying around the halls of the old opera house.

From the shadows I had watched her grow from the time she was a little six-year-old holding onto her mother's skirts. The moment the older girls saw Meg first walk into the dormitories I cringed. They were like a pride of lions finding a lithe gazelle in the brush, alone.

She had made a lovely meal, and in the library even I had feasted on her worst fears.

I went for the high road. "Well, you started this by barging in on our conversation."

Meg turned, her blue eyes wide in astonishment. "Neither of you were speaking."

"Because we heard you coming. We're not perfect but we're not hard of hearing."

She looked away again and took several steps down the street. I was really in no mood to follow her all damn night. I had an opera due for consideration in Florence in three weeks. The wind was picking up and my stomach was growling.

Still someone had to keep an eye on her. A prowler in the night would have found her an easy prey. Her limping had gotten worse. I had never seen her drag her leg so badly.

"Did you fall that night?" I asked quietly. "Or did you twist your leg?"

"I fell. I nearly landed in the orchestra pit."

I heard myself exhale. She had nearly been crushed by the chandelier. Little Meg, the next Empress of France, had almost been killed by the chandelier.

"In rehearsals you were always standing stage left."

She turned and stared at me. "H—how did you know?"

I sat down again and propped my toes against the dog's belly. "Because I wanted to know where you would be should I….need to take extreme measures." My eyes narrowed and I took to studying the different shapes of cobblestones near my feet. "I had thought I was being careful. I thought I knew where both of you would be if the chandelier came down—which it would have eventually because the damned thing was old and in need of replacing."

Meg didn't say anything, which irritated me because then I would have to sit there in silence or continue to talk. It was the first time I had actually wanted her to speak.

"Far worse things could have happened to you," I said under my breath. Still she said nothing. "There was an Italian man named Langelli."

"Guillermo Langelli," she said softly.

"He followed the youngest girls when your mother was off yelling at the older dancers. Sometimes he followed them into the lounge but mostly it was back to the dormitories. He thought no one watched him. He knew they would not tell, and if they did no one would believe them. Did he ever walk behind you?"

She shook her head.

"He was warned," I replied. "He was not allowed—"

"Past the horseshoe."

I merely nodded. There were several horseshoes throughout the opera house as superstition and the arts go hand in hand. The one she referred to was outside of her mother's flat, which was the first door in the hallway where the dormitories were located.

"His insolence lost him a finger."

Meg glanced at me and turned quickly away. The wind blew stray strands of dark blond hair into her eyes. She brushed the unruly locks away and frowned at the night. Her teeth were chattering.

"Why did you guard the hall?"

"Because it was my house long before anyone else claimed it. My rules were to be obeyed, my salary paid on time, and my legacy respected." I rose to my feet and gave her my cloak. "And because there was no one to watch over you and your mother."

She hugged the two cloaks closer to her body and whispered a thank-you.

"You need to return home before you freeze to death," I told her. I nodded down the street before bending down and picking up the end of the leash. Bessie had chewed it well by the damp feel of it. "And take the dog with you."

She took the leash from me. A shiver ran through her as the leather, slick with dog saliva, passed from my hand to hers. I heard her groan in disgust.

"Take your cloak back. You'll freeze to death."

"A ghost can't freeze," I mumbled though my fingers were becoming painfully stiff.

"I knew you were real," she said quickly as she handed me back my own outer garment. Even though she had only worn it briefly, it smelled of hyacinth. "Even when the other girls teased me about the ghost who would steal me from the shadows I knew you were real."

"Well, good," I said. What was I supposed to say? I didn't know why she was explaining herself.

"Mother said the Opera Ghost was nothing to fear. I tried to believe her. I wanted to believe her. She always said as long as I didn't go down to the cellars nothing bad would happen. But then…Joseph Buquet was found hanging. And then Christine disappeared…"

"Now listen here. Joseph Buquet was a drunken fool who liked to watch the actresses dress and make love to their patrons. If he wasn't prone to the bottle then perhaps he would have known not to intrude where he didn't belong. Where did they find his rancid body? In the third cellar where he wasn't supposed to be in the first place. As for Christine…I do not care to discuss her a moment longer."

Meg nodded. She was unbearably timid, which was a trait she possessed long before she knew there was an opera ghost. I always suspected her father had been cruel to her. He was much like Louis Seuratti from what little Madeline had told me of her husband.

I couldn't stop thinking of that as we stood in silence with nothing but a dog plopped down between us. It didn't so much bother me to have people think I was menacing. If it made them leave me alone, then so be it. But it was the ways in which they thought I would harm them, such as kidnapping little girls for perverse pleasures or harming a woman, which angered me. Not once had I harmed a child with my own hands and, aside from perhaps one of the more unbearable sopranos ever known to mankind, I had never bothered any woman.

Unless the occasional peek into the dancers' dressing room counted, which shouldn't because they were always running around nude even when they weren't in their dressing rooms.

"Is there something about me that reminds you of him? Was that what you feared me after you moved into the opera house?" I asked.

Meg didn't say anything for a long time. She stared at the ground and held the leash tightly in her hand.

When I thought she would not reply at all, I gave up and started for home. To hell with her. If she wanted to stand in the dark and ask for pity then let the wind feel sorry for Little Meg.

"The opera ghost reminded me of him," she said quietly. "Because Father would not make a sound and suddenly be in the room. He would say nothing—not a word—and then destroy my dolls or mother's favorite dishes."

Even in the lightless night I saw her close her eyes. The two glistening orbs disappeared, replaced by tiny streams down her cheeks. Her words made me shudder. I knew what it was to fear a silent man. My own father had been an intangible sentinel.

"In the twenty-odd years we have shared an opera house and a private residence the worst thing I did to you was put a dead mouse in the folds of your tutu."

She gasped in horror and covered her mouth. "I blamed little Jammes for that. I stopped speaking to her for months."

I shrugged. There were so many dancers that I had no idea who one was from the next. All of them were tittering little mice scurrying back and forth, dodging the seamstresses and set builders. All of them were constantly in trouble with the fireman, the rat catcher, and the idiots who thought they ran the opera house.

In order to hurry her on home, I gave an exaggerated sigh. "I cannot guarantee that I will eat my supper, refrain from stomping on the floors, or stop handing you leashes covered in dog slobber, but you have my word that I will never raise more than my voice. Quite frankly it's quite insulting that you think I would ever lay a hand on you."

She nodded. It was clear that neither of us was about to apologize.

"I'll walk you as far as the front steps," I said as I turned back in the direction we had come. Bessie yanked Meg forward. She seemed to find the outdoors intolerable.

"You are staying out?"

I nodded.

"For how long?"

I had half the mind to ask her if she was going to log my comings and goings in a journal.

"Long enough for dinner to grow cold." I offered my arm.

Meg hesitated for a moment. She looked at my extended hand as though it was a python.

"The composer wants you back inside before you come down with a chill. Lord knows you're the only one in the house who can cook a decent meal."

She smiled at my words and took my arm. "Thank you, Monsieur Kire."

"I think you've lived in my house long enough to forgo the usual formalities."

Meg nodded but said nothing more. She handed the leash back to me with a slight smirk on her face.

"You're quite fortunate I haven't seen any mice around lately, Madame Lowry," I muttered.


	12. Aria

Speaking with Meg revealed many things I hadn't known before. The composer walked her home. The ghost disappeared.

Ch 12

A spring storm rumbling over Paris curtailed my plan for taking a long walk. The threat of being struck by lightning was a greater menace than an array of questions from Madeline as to where I was going or what I was doing.

Or so I thought. Once I saw her peering out the window I abruptly changed my mind and sent Meg inside with Bessie following close behind. The dog looked back at me once, gave me a questioning look, and decided she preferred a warm rug to her master's jaunts.

"I'll keep your supper warmed in the oven," Meg promised. She leaned further out the door. "And I'll add more salt to yours."

I bid her good-night and went on my way down the street bundled in my cloak to keep the drizzle out. The storm was moving too fast for me to stay out long. Spring nights often brought rain, which didn't bother me much. Inclement weather kept most citizens off the street. Since I had done my best to avoid Madeline, I didn't bring an umbrella, which meant I would be soaked to the bone if I walked too far.

The corner was my destination. Monsieur LeFrond, that miserable old troll, had lived at the end of the street in a dilapidated home where the exterior was strangled by ivy and unruly rose bushes and the inside was poisoned by a bitter old man constantly telling the neighbors to mind their tone. He was greatly concerned by the amount of noise on the street. For over nine years he had alienated himself from the rest of the denizens.

I missed the old buzzard. Between listening to him snarl about my violin playing or welcoming the Leach Duo into the neighborhood I would have chosen Monsieur LeFrond upsetting the balance of neighborly tolerance.

When I reached the corner I stopped. There was a light shining through the window on the second floor. Bitter jealousy enveloped my heart as I stared at the golden orb wavering through the glass. Julia couldn't see the light—her house was six lots away on the street behind mine. It could not have been an invitation for Julia to join Archie, but I wondered.

Even if she claimed not to love him, how did I know that he wasn't in love with her? Julia was not a statue of Venus or a ravishing Aphrodite but she was a fine-looking woman in her late twenties. She was older than most women starting a family but there was no reason why, if they married quickly, she couldn't bear him at least two children.

I hated this man. There were millions of places throughout Europe for people to live. Why, of all places, did Archie and Hermine move into a home a street away from Julia?

My teeth began to chatter as I stood there. There was no benefit of standing outside the old LeFrond House with the wind swirling under my cloak and the rain creating pins and needles on my face. Two days remained before tea at Julia's home. Anything could happen in two days. For all I knew Julia was inside with Archie while I was a mute, rain-drenched statue standing alone.

Even in love I was miserable. At least when I was alone I knew what to expect. The pain dulled as the years passed and I remained inanimate. But now there were possibilities, real possibilities of living the rest of my years with someone else. There was also the prospect of losing her completely to this childhood friend.

I stared at the house and wondered what had happened to him. After the incident with Meg I had almost forgotten the mention of his accident. Did Julia pity him? Did she pity _me_? Everything had been so simple when she was only a woman in a darkened bedroom. Now she was a lady prying at my heart, digging into my very soul. I was infected by her. The more I beat the idea of love to death the more I was certain it was some sort of lethal infliction.

With a groan at my doubts and self-deprecation, I turned toward home. My face was numb, my hands stiff, my legs tingling, and my misery complete.

My first step forward resulted in a scream that made my skin crawl. I had never heard such an agonizing shriek from anything, save perhaps Bessie when she finds herself underfoot. This, however, was higher in pitch.

Had lightning not splintered the sky I never would have found the ugly, half-dead little ball of fur. I most likely would have stepped on the one-eyed kitten and snapped its neck or broken its leg. As it was, I considered stepping over it and letting the rain and cold freeze it to death.

But it mewed.

A soft, pleading little sound accompanied by a paw batting at my pant leg. No one would have stopped to pick it up. The fur was matted, the tail bent near the tip where it had been broken. The thing was better off dead. I tried to convince myself of this as I grabbed it with one hand and walked toward a street lamp.

By the looks of it, the creature was only several weeks old. Perhaps the mother had been drowned along with the rest of the kittens in the litter. Perhaps cruel children had taken out its eye and bent its tail. No matter what had happened, the thing was cold and wet and shivering in my hands.

The most humane action I could think of was to hold it under the front paws, take it by the head, and kill it quickly. I would bury it, of course, so that it didn't become food for vermin. When I returned home I would even play it a requiem.

"Poor little wretch with your missing eye and crooked tail," I said with a shake of my head. "The world is no place for you. I apologize for your suffering."

I ran my finger beneath its little white chin and did as was necessary. The miserable beast didn't stand a chance out in the cold. No one would care for it. No one would have even noticed it, and if another person stepped on it, well…

I did what was best. Against my conscience, I did what was best.

Once I returned home, I slipped quietly upstairs. I heard Madeline and Meg in the kitchen, while Charles and Alexandre were talking in the library. Quiet as a mouse, I removed my wet cloak and set my new one-eyed rejected feline on a blanket at the end of the bed. It began purring once I placed another blanket over it.

I was certain it would not live through the night. The least I could do was allow it to die in peace. The pathetic thing deserved at least a quiet death. I looked at it one last time before I closed the bedroom door. The remaining sapphire eye followed my movement until the door shut.

Everyone was at the dinner table when I walked downstairs. All of them staring made me increasingly uncomfortable.

"What? Can't I walk into my own dining room?" I snapped.

"Good evening, Father," Alexandre said.

"Good evening, Alex," I replied. I glanced around the table and settled my gaze on Meg. "I need a saucer of warm milk."

They continued to stare at me after I made my request. Meg, who had been standing when I entered the dining room, turned and began to fulfill my request.

"Warm milk?" Madeline questioned.

"Yes," I said. It was my house. I didn't need to give detailed elaborations on what I requested. It should have been done, no questions asked.

"For what?"

Damn her. I sighed and looked at the wall clock to avoid her eyes.

"What do you need a saucer of milk for? Are you feeding strays?" she persisted.

"No." Which was mostly the truth because now that the cat was inside the house it wasn't necessarily a stray. It wasn't owned, but it wasn't a stray. Not really.

"Are you thirsty, Father?" Alexandre asked. He offered me his glass of water.

"No, I'm fine." Where in the hell was Meg? How long did it take to heat a pan of milk?

Charles, the only one with sense, tapped his fingers on his folded napkin. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"No, it's starting to rain. And I found a half-dead cat."

All three of them began speaking at once, each asking the same question.

"It's upstairs."

"In your room?"

"On the bed?"

"In the house?"

Meg returned with a half-filled teacup and a saucer beneath it. I took it from her and nodded.

"What are you going to do with it?" Madeline asked.

She irritated me. It was none of her concern what I did.

"The damn thing will be dead by morning," I growled. "If it isn't dead already."

With the cup and saucer in hand, I went upstairs and expected the animal would already be cold and stiff beneath the blanket. It would never survive a lifetime with her empty eye socket and broken tail. Things like that never live long.

Of course it was still alive when I offered it drops of milk on the tip of my finger. It remained very much alive with its sandpaper tongue lapping up dinner until the teacup was emptied and a rumble of pleasure emerged from the fist-sized furball. Once the milk was gone, I placed the cat on its back and dried its swollen belly. It became she, and she wasn't nearly as horrendous once her fur dried.

Her fur was gray and fairly long. Her paws were dirty, the front right foot tender from where I had stepped on her in the dark. Her claws were little razors which she continuously used to latch onto my shirt sleeve as I dried her off and cleaned away the dirt.

I moved to my writing desk and sat her belly-up on my knees. With the lamp turned up I examined her damaged eye socket. The injury was still quite fresh, the fur around the missing left eye damp. She squirmed when I touched her nose, which I assumed was from the pain.

Even with as much as I knew of cruelty her fate struck me as merciless and beyond comprehension. Someone had purposely gouged out this animal's eye. They had broken the end of her tail and left her to die of cold and starvation. It angered me. This was inconceivable. It served absolutely no purpose to wound this ball of hair.

"You have a great soul to forgive people so easily," I said to her as I turned down the lamp and covered her in blankets again. Despite what religion claimed, animals had to have souls. Many times I thought they had better, brighter souls than most people.

Completely sated and finally dry, she snuggled into her blankets and purred for a long time in her sleep. I moved her down to the end of the bed and watched her a moment.

Bessie would not be pleased.

Again I insisted she would be dead by morning. She was far too small and helpless to survive the night. Still, I gave her a name before I went down to the dinner table and ate my cold leg of lamb alone. I called her Aria, the kitten I supposed would be dead before dawn.

She woke me at nine in the morning by pawing at my face and licking my ear.


	13. Fear of Loss

After I went for a walk I found a half-dead cat. Even though it would have been better off put out of its misery I brought it home. Well what did you expect me to do? Honestly...

Ch 13

"May we keep her?"

"We don't need a cat," I told Alexandre as he sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor. It had been two days since I had found the miserable little wretch outside in the rain.

Alex reached for a balled up sheet of paper and tossed it across the room. "She could stay in my room," Alex offered.

"I seem to recall hearing that the dog would be staying in your room and now I have enough hair on my bed to make a Bassett Hound coat."

"She could stay by the fireplace," Alexandre suggested.

"Where she would starve to death or fall into the fire. Shouldn't you be studying rather than watching the cat play?" I asked over my shoulder.

"Not until after lunch. Did you tell Madame Seuratti about the cat?"

"No," I replied as I tapped my pen against the desktop. The most aggravating thing in the world was being so close to finishing a piece of music and completely losing momentum in the last scene. The distraction of a cat, a dog and a child was grating on my nerves.

"Maybe you could call her Sophia."

The pen slipped from my hand. I twisted around in my chair. "I beg your pardon."

"The kitten. I named her Sophia."

"That is hardly a name for a cat."

Madeline knocked on the bedroom door and told Alexandre it was time to start his studies. He rose reluctantly and whistled for Bessie but the dog would have no part of it. She had no desire to abandon her corner or the tattered coverlet that served as her bedding. It was far from comforting to see how our brave watchdog cowered from something the size of my fist.

"What are you going to do with it?" Madeline asked after she heard Charles and Alexandre speaking downstairs.

"Leave it somewhere in a day or two," I mumbled. Couldn't she see I was working? All morning long I had been attempting to complete the last scene of my opera. Between feeding the cat and having the three-ring circus enter my bedroom I was never going to finish.

"Where would you leave it?"

"Somewhere far enough where it won't find its way back."

"Where was it?"

"Outside."

Madeline sighed in disgust. I smiled with my back turned to her. At least I was still ornery even if I was far less cynical.

"In front of the house?"

"In front of _a_ house."

"Why didn't you leave it?"

"Property value."

She stepped closer, suddenly breathing down my neck. "What do you mean?" she asked.

I gave an exaggerated sigh in hopes that she would see I was irritated and leave me alone. "It would make the house value go down. No one wants to find dead animals laying about the streets. Someone walking by would have thought they were in the slums."

Madeline was quiet. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and saw her smiling at me. She didn't believe a word I had said.

"Do you need something, Madame, or have you decided to keep record of every pen stroke committed to paper?"

"I was going to ask if you had given it a name."

"Why in hell would I name the damned thing?"

"Well, your son wants to call her Sophia."

"Sophia indeed," I mumbled into my fist. Madeline was preventing progress. She was becoming a giant boulder on the road of my inspiration. "If you would like to find employment elsewhere, by all means continue."

I glanced in the mirror and saw her shake her head.

"It appalls me," Madeline said once she saw me staring at her. "Such cruelty in the world."

"Are you still here?"

She had known me long enough to decipher my tones. Though I still aggravated the holy hell out of Madeline, she chose to ignore me. She had known me long enough where she could do as she pleased around me. Other than Julia, Madeline was the only other person who ignored my shouting and foot-stomping.

"The poor little thing is fortunate you found her."

"Fortunate," I snorted. "No one who has ever crossed my path has been fortunate."

"Anyone else may have killed her."

"She's probably better off dead."

Madeline continued standing there a moment longer. "When you lived in the opera house, did you ever have anything?"

"Any what?"

"A pet?"

"In the fifth cellar of an opera house? What would I have had? A rat?"

"You could have had a cat. They adjust well to their surroundings."

"Why would I want one? This thing has been here two days and I can't finish a damned sheet of music. Every five minutes I'm either taking the dog outside or feeding Ar—the godforsaken _thing_. What a silly question, Madame. The opera was no place for a flea-infested cat," I grumbled.

"That's a shame," Madeline said with a wane smile on her face. She closed the door behind her.

I turned and saw Aria staring up at me. She bounded toward the desk and clawed her way up my pant leg until she stood on my music. Her missing eye had stopped draining and her tail, which I had straightened into place, looked as though it would heal straight. The little disaster I had stepped on two nights before had cleaned up nicely.

I ran my hand down the cat's spine and shuddered. Madeline was correct. It was a shame. It was a terrible shame.

Madeline had no idea how lonely those years had been, how endless the days were as I paced my lakeside apartments like a beast trapped in an ornate cage. It was hell to live there without speaking to anyone for weeks. It was hell to be branded as a monster because of my appearance. If something, anything, had accepted me I would have been a better man.

For fifteen years, the only person I spoke to was Madeline. She had seen me on accident one night when she walked into Box Five an hour before a performance. She didn't scream or faint or put on some ridiculous display. We stared at one another for a moment and she asked who I was and what I was doing.

"You know damn well who I am and what I am doing," I replied.

Madeline merely nodded. Her lack of fear galled and impressed me. After that I began sending her messages. I left lists of what I needed and when I wanted things delivered. She was to leave goods outside her mirror and leave the room. Twice she did as I asked. The third time she crouched behind a chair and waited for me to enter.

She left me two choices: kill her or trust her.

Every day since then I wondered if I made the wrong choice. It was a shame I had kept her at a distance. Madeline had been good to me from the moment I first saw her. She kept my secrets, managed my finances, and stubbornly waited for me to come through her mirror. Every time I saw her face to face she asked how I was doing and how my music was coming along. Not once had I answered her. I gathered my things, paid her, and left.

I felt the cat's throat vibrate as she purred. I would not have become an embittered shell if I put forth an ounce of effort. The world did not want me and I did not want the world. I didn't want anything. Day after day I forced myself to believe that I was above the desires of mere mortals. I was the ruler of a dark kingdom, the overseer of night, the archangel of music.

I held onto a domain where hatred ran rampant and love was a famine to my soul. It was a difficult palace to abandon. Even without a cellar to call my own I remained a solitary creature. As much as I desired a place in the world I feared it. Hatred could be kept for a lifetime. Love could be lost. I didn't want to lose.

I didn't want to lose.

I was sick to death of abandonment. I had grown weary of rejection.

Aria sat down on the sheet music and licked away the one drop I had left on her back. She rolled over and wrapped her front paws around my fist, digging her needle-sharp claws into my knuckles as she washed my fingers with her rough tongue.

"Demanding little whelp," I muttered as my finger ran down her neck. She continued to purr and saunter back and forth across the desk having no idea that the hand running along her back could have ended her life.

It seemed that I could not even instill fear in a kitten, in an animal who had known unimaginable cruelty in her first weeks of life.

Of course I took in this animal. Who else would want her but a man equally grotesque? Disfigurement didn't matter to a dumb beast. She had no idea what a terrible face I possessed or how the world had collectively decided to recoil from my hand. The last thing she may have seen out of her stolen eye was a smiling, handsome face. Beauty would not matter to this creature. The ugliest thing in the world had saved her from death. She saw me through a looking glass. This animal was blind to the exterior. I wondered if she had felt safe when I scooped her up from the ground and held her to my chest.

I sat with my chin resting in the palm of my hand and felt where my skin turned from smooth to uneven. My fingers inched up to my ear where the skin formed a ridge and valley. The cat rubbed her head against my jaw and purred. She turned, her tail sweeping past my cheek as she mewed at me.

I thought of Julia and how she had placed her hand against my face. She had touched the vilest and most disgusting flesh the world had ever seen. She had kissed the lips of a distorted creature, lain beside something no one else dared to look at let alone touch. Julia had done more than give me something physical.

This whole nonsense with the cat was all her doing. She had softened me. I wondered if it had happened over the years or in the few days I had spent in her guest room.

Long ago I had told Christine that I could be a very good man, gentle as a lamb. To be good, I needed only to be loved. She had chosen to ignore me. She had furthered my hatred. She added to the apathy I felt toward myself.

Without telling Julia she had known what I needed. She had taken the gentle lamb out of the rabid wolf's maw.

As I placed the cat back in her makeshift bed and reached for my overcoat I knew it was true. I felt it. I felt love.

I only hoped it would be enough to get me through tea with Leach, Leach's twit sister, and Julia.


	14. Prelude to Tea

There was nothing lefttodo in the house. I decided to go to Julia's early.

* * *

I had a decision to make before lunch. I could either wear a black mask, a white mask, or don only my hairpiece.

I would not leave without my hair in place. If it had only been Julia I would have considered leaving it at home as she had seen me in my darkest hour. There was nothing more to hide from her. But with strangers in her home I needed something else to appear acceptable.

Leach had seen me in the doorway without the mask on. He was standing too far back in the kitchen to have gotten a clear look at my face, but he had seen enough to know it was not a normal face.

La Femme Leach saw me up close and had the opportunity to scrutinize each macabre detail. I could only hope she had the intelligence and memory of a snail.

The mask, on the other hand, would serve its purpose and hide my grotesque deformity. Perhaps they would both think of me as eccentric.

Eccentric was better than being thought of as physically unacceptable. I sighed and placed the white mask on my face.

Everything would have been easier had Julia decided today could have been our first official opportunity at courtship, but instead she insisted on seeing the neighbors. I reached into my pocket and felt the note I had taken to carrying with me, my reasons for her to accept my proposal. For now I would play her inhumane game and comply with her hedonistic rituals.

Bessie made a run for it before I had opened the bedroom door completely. She toppled down the stairs in a controlled fall, ears, feet and tail all working against each other. I heard her run into the library where, from the sound of it, some solid object brought her to a crashing halt.

As long as the house wasn't burgled by a kitten the silver would be safe.

Meg was in the kitchen when I walked in to get a glass of water. There were times when I was certain Meg inhabited only the kitchen and dining room. I couldn't complain -the house smelled of cinnamon.

My stomach convinced me that I needed to sit at the table.

Meg jumped when she heard the chair scrape against the wooden floor. I watched her shiver slightly and fan herself.

"You need a cowbell," she muttered as she took a plate from the cupboard and a utensils from the drawer.

"You need to be better aware of your surroundings. What's in the oven?"

"Nothing for you."

I frowned. "If my money purchased whatever you mixed into a bowl and tossed into the oven then, Madame, I beg your pardon, but it is for me."

Meg glanced at me from over her shoulder. "It's for tea at Julia's."

"You don't work for her, you work for me."

"Yes, but I promised I would make cinnamon rolls."

I rapped my knuckles against the table. For the majority of my life food had not particularly interested me. Meg managed to change my limited perception of culinary delights within months of becoming the primary cook in the house. I had never before tasted such exquisite pastry. In nine years I had developed an affinity for anything containing salt or sugar. I considered withholding cinnamon rolls as cruel and unusual punishment.

"When will they be done?"

"Two."

I glanced at the clock. It was not even noon yet. I sighed and silently cursed. If I could get her out of the kitchen I was willing to eat raw dough. "What is there to eat?"

"Lunch will be ready soon." Meg slid a plate with a cinnamon roll across the table. "Mother went to Madame de Jean's house. I suggest you take this to your room or to the library."

When I glanced up at Meg she was smiling like a devious child. It was a shame she was being so amiable. I had just found a dead mouse that morning in my half of the cellar.

The afternoon became sheer hell. Tea was at two-thirty. By half past noon I had checked every clock in the house thinking my watch had stopped. My watch was fine. I was beside myself.

I finished my cinnamon roll before I walked past the library where Alex and Charles were practicing Latin. Alex had his back to the door but Charles looked up and smiled before going back to the book Alexandre was translating aloud. I listened for a moment before deciding Latin would neither quell my anxiety nor alleviate my boredom.

A thought wriggled into my mind, one that made me quite happy.

Julia _had_ invited me to come over early. I ran my tongue along my teeth and stared at the wall clock. It was almost one. By five after the hour I convinced myself that I was better off arriving at her home early than late. My tardiness the last time had left Julia alone with the Vicomte. The very last thing I wanted was for Julia to be alone with Archie. While I could only hope he would have the decency to control himself with his sister present, I would take no chances with the English.

No one should ever trust the English, the filthy buggers.

"Bring the cinnamon rolls over when they're done," I told Meg as I passed through the kitchen.

"You're leaving now?" she asked. "Aren't you…a bit early?"

"A bit," I replied before shutting the door.

The sun was so bright when I walked into the back garden that my eyes began to water. I held my hand above my eyes and squinted as I walked the winding stone path.

Unlike the rest of Paris we had ample space, with a ten-foot high stone wall surrounding our private Eden. Originally there had been a wrought-iron spear-headed gate with ivy strangling each stake, but at the request of my checkbook it was replaced. Stone was solid and ivy was not. I wanted to be certain no one was lurking about unseen.

The gate I had slammed shut in my anger hung pathetically on its rusted hinges and gently thumped against the broken latch. I pulled it open and stepped from my yard into Julia's modest confines.

She was in the kitchen when I knocked on the door. I could hear her through the window that never closed right as she shut a cabinet door and muttered to herself.

The door swung open and I stepped back. The smell of apples wafted through the open door.

"Good afternoon," I said.

Julia stood with strands of hair falling out of place from the loose bun on the top of her head. She wore a white apron over her dress and flour in place of rouge on her cheeks.

"Good afternoon."

I forced a nervous smile, suddenly aware of how early I had arrived and how ridiculous I must have seemed.

Julia stared at the mask before she looked me in the eye. "Erik, you're…what time is it?"

"Fifteen past."

"Two?"

"One."

Julia turned her head to the side. "You're quite early," she said slowly.

Too early. She was going to send me back home like an impatient child. I stepped away from the door and sighed. I didn't know what to tell her so I bowed my head.

"Come inside. I may put you to work," she said. A smiled eased onto her face when I looked at her again. "And why don't you remove that mask? I can't imagine it is very comfortable."

She was correct. I had forgotten how much it impaired my breathing when I wore it. I was grateful to remove the covering as soon as I closed the kitchen door.

"Have you been looking forward to today?" she questioned as she peeked inside the oven.

"I looked forward to seeing you, but not the tea party," I said as I sat down. I inhaled deeply, the smell of warm apples making my mouth water. "I always look forward to seeing you."

Julia rolled her eyes at me. "We are not going upstairs, Erik."

Her comment irritated me. "I realize that, Julia," I said through my teeth. "I only came to see you. Precious," I added dryly.

Her shoulders dropped and she smiled. "I apologize. It's nice to have you here early. If you had come an hour ago you could have peeled apples for me."

I raised a brow. "Women's work?"

She chuckled. "You best hold your tongue, Monsieur Kire. It's been a long day already, and with Jillian and Candace coming to tea—"

"Who?" My palms went flat against the table. "I thought it was those English folk. Your little playmates. Who are these other people?"

"Two of the ladies who live nearby are visiting later today. Jillian and Candace Erie. They're sisters. Never married, though I believe Monsier Collier is interested in Jillian."

"What?" I rose from my seat and reached for the mask.

"He lives on the corner behind Archie and Hermine."

"Why are there more people coming?"

"I told you there were several guests coming," Julia replied. She stepped toward me and held her hands out, palms up.

"Did you invite half of Paris?"

"No, no, only Archie, Hermine, Candace and Jillian."

I shook my head at her and glanced at the door. I wished I hadn't come early. I wished I hadn't come at all. My obsession with that damned Archie Leach had completely taken over all other thoughts. I had forgotten that Julia mentioned other guests. Two strangers were bad enough. Four was incomprehensible.

I couldn't do this. Not for love, not for longevity, not for anything. I couldn't.

"They think you are Madeline's son," Julia said quietly. "They know you are very reserved and that you don't like your privacy disturbed. The lights in the parlor--."

"No, no Julia, I'm returning home."

"Erik, don't do this."

"Don't do this to me," I said. I was in a rage, my sweating palms balled into knuckle-white fists. "I would do anything for you. Anything in the world, I would do for you, but I will not….I will not do this."

I looked around the room in hopes of finding something to throw. Days of Persia returned when the Sultan asked me before a full court of his closest friends as to why I had never taken a wife. I could see these four strangers sitting around Julia's parlor, all staring at me from the corner of their eyes.

I would not be put on display. I would not be made into some horrific delight. I would not be ridiculed all over again.

Julia wrapped her hands around my right arm. "Please listen to me."

"When they are gone I will return if you wish to see me, but I will not stay."

"The Erie's are coming over later in the afternoon. Archie and Hermine will be here in an hour. You've met Hermine."

"Regretfully."

She ignored my statement and caressed my arm, soothing the abhorrent beast. "And you saw Archie. They are very good friends of mine, Erik, and neither will chastise you. They are both very fond of arts and music. It will be an honor for them to meet you."

"I am not in the mood," I muttered.

Julia took the mask from my hands and set it back on the table. She kissed me on the right side of my jaw. "You have nothing to fear."

I looked at her, my eyes narrowed on her oval face. The left side matched the right side, a perfect landscape, with hazel eyes, soft, pink lips, and a freckle or two that emerged when she was in the sun.

I ran my finger along her cheek, caressing her flawless alabaster skin. She was what the Greeks modeled their goddesses after, what the Old Masters dreamed of the night before they began a masterpiece.

Slowly I turned from her and stared at the mask waiting, mocking.

"You have no idea what I fear."


	15. Asking Too Much

**Julia was getting a bit out of hand with expecting me to be comfortable with the many facets of her life.**

**Ch 15**

There would never be a day when I was a normal man. Even I was not so foolish enough to think that one day I would be cured of my ways. I stared at the mask taunting on the table and knew I would never release the ghost that was my inner shadow.

My eyes closed to the white void and sightless eyes. Julia asked far more of me than I was capable of giving. As much as I loved her I felt she had betrayed my trust by insisting on this damned gathering.

Julia didn't know what it was like to live with only half a face. The world did not welcome me the way it did her. Louis had raised his hand at her, but she had not been rejected before she had taken her first breath. She did not hear her mother say that if it wasn't for the church she would be dead.

I often wondered if my need to coddle Alexandre as an infant had been from the lack of affection I had been shown as a child. The earliest memory I had of childhood was being locked within the cellar for hours at a time. The darkness offered me a cold embrace, which I had no choice but to accept. In the cool quiet I would sit with my back to the wall, knees drawn up to my chest. There was nothing to do but wait and hope that someone, anyone, would return to claim me.

It was rare that the door would open and I would be permitted to leave. The need for contact had changed over the years once cruelty came hand-in-hand with the company of others. Cynicism replaced desperation, and now my fears turned to pessimism.

I was deeply ashamed of myself for my apprehension. My level of comfort with people didn't even extend to all who lived beneath my roof. It certainly would not extend to the neighborhood.

I turned to face Julia again. "I can't do this."

She sighed in disappointment but nodded nonetheless. "If that is your choice, so be it."

Her words were condescending. My eyes narrowed, mouth hardening. "Choice? Do you think it is my choice to live as a recluse? Do you think I want to be forced from the world?"

Julia stepped back from me. She shook her head so lightly that I barely noticed the gesture. "I don't want you to be a recluse and I don't want you to feel forced from the world."

She angered me. Any words leaving her mouth would have stoked my rage. "And did you think you could draw me from my home like poison from a wound? Am I to be extracted for your pleasure?"

Julia's eyes widened. She held her hand out to me, palm up. "Erik, settle down."

"Stop telling me what to do! I have lived the last forty-two years of my life alone and I will not tolerate you issuing orders! I will not be put on display! I will not sit there and have them stare at me!"

"You will not be on display. They aren't here to stare at you, Erik. Please, sit down and stop shouting." Her tone remained pleasant, her hand peacefully extended.

"Then why am I here?" I asked. I turned away from her in my anger. For a moment I thought I would black out.

"You are a guest in my home." She came up behind me and rested her head against my arm while her left hand ran down my back. I was in such a state that her touch made me flinch. "You are in my heart, Erik. You are here because I asked you to be with me for tea."

"I can't stay."

"It's too early," she agreed.

"It will always be too early, Julia."

Her head remained against my arm though I felt her hand draw away from my back. For a long time we stood very still. I was afraid of what she might say next, so I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of her breathing.

She was all I wanted in life. Not crowds, not parties, only one woman. It was enough for me, but it would never be enough for Julia.

My heart sank as I stood beside her, feeling her fingernails scratch my back. We were two different people. Her days were spent chatting with neighbors, walking to the market, and sewing for extra income. Most of my time was spent in my room. Normally I took my meals in private while Madeline, Meg, Charles and Alex sat at the dining room table. When I did eat with the rest of the household it was because Madeline rapped on the door and sternly told me her knees were too sore to deliver a tray up the stairs.

I never quite understood how she made it up the stairs without so much as a grimace of pain when she told me dinner was on the table. I did understand, however, that I was a mole living above ground.

Perhaps the last five years between Julia and I had been a mistake. I could not ask her to share a cage with me. It would never make her happy, Julia my beautiful bird. A mere half-hour before her tea social and I had proven I couldn't make her happy. As painful a thought as it was, I considered breaking off our arrangement before we began the courtship. Perhaps my fate was to know her, but not marry her.

Eventually I would accept my doom.

"Julia," I started.

"Do you need to check on the kitten?" she asked.

I turned to face her. "How do you…? No, I don't need to check on the damned cat! It's an animal. It can take care of itself."

She couldn't hold back her smile. "Alexandre came over this morning and told Lisette there was a kitten in your room. He invited her over to see it."

"No one is coming over to see the bag of fleas we have in the house. Tomorrow I'm walking it to the park and leaving it to fend on its own."

"But Alexandre has a name for the cat."

"It's not his cat. He has no…"

Damn her, she had ensnared me. I knew what wild pigs felt like in the brush when they were innocently walking around and suddenly the ground gives way and they plummet to their death in a jungle trap. She was a wicked, wicked woman.

"Well, I found it so if I choose to name it I will."

"What are you naming her?" Julia goaded.

"I haven't decided." I waved my arm at her to excuse her question. "We're not keeping a cat in the house, so there is really no need to give this mongrel a name."

Julia shrugged. Each time she smiled I felt transparent. She sat down at the table and moved my mask aside so she could fold her arms on the tabletop. "So, what did you name the cat?"

"Certainly not Sophia."

"Erika?"

I glared at her. "Indeed, Madame."

Julia giggled. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand and savored her chance at irritating me. "You found her on the street?"

I took a seat beside Julia and nodded. I knew I should have told her good-bye but I wasn't prepared to leave her yet. I didn't want to stay for tea but I didn't want to leave.

"Someone took out her eye."

Julia scrunched her nose. "That's what I thought. Alex thought she was winking."

"He won't know differently," I sighed. I crossed my arms and sat back. "I don't think he would understand if I attempted to explain."

"But you understand," Julia said. Her words faded away and she turned her face from me. "I suppose in a way I don't understand either."

My fingers crept toward the mask. This one small piece of leather embodied all forms of cruelty. There was mocking laughter, beatings, expressions of horror, and neglect branded into the one thing I swore I would never live without. It was a blessing for hiding the deformity, a curse for never fully covering what was the worst part of all.

"There is nothing to understand," I muttered.

"Perhaps not the cruelty, but I think you underestimate kindness and acceptance."

I continued staring at the table. Julia rose from her seat and went back to the oven. She brushed her hand along my shoulders on her way.

"Do you want something to eat before you leave?"

"What are you making?"

"Tarte Tatin"

"Will the English eat it?" I asked dryly. "Wouldn't they prefer baked cod or blood pudding?"

"For tea?"

"Well, they're English. Who knows what they would eat? Uncivilized beasts…"

Before I could insult them further the doorbell rang. Julia spun around. She glanced from me to the door and half-smiled. "That must be Archie and Hermine. I'll take them to the parlor."

I sat very still and held my breath, listening to Julia's shoes click on the wooden floors. The door opened moments later.

"Good afternoon, Hermine.?"

"Good afternoon," Hermine replied. "Lovely day."

"Lovely indeed. And Archie, how are you?"

"Ju-lie, Ju-lie, Ju-lie, you look beautiful today."

"Thank you."

"Like a ray of sunshine." He slapped his hands together.

"Well, thank you. You look very nice today too."

"It's the sun, the sun, but you, Ju-lie, you look perfect."

"You're embarrassing me, Archie, now really."

He was wearing out his welcome. I sucked on my teeth and prayed that a part of the ceiling would detach itself and crush his head.

"I hope we're not too early. Hermine just insisted that we come by and offer our assistance."

"Oh, how kind of you both," Julia replied.

A sound followed their exchange, a sound I knew very well.

He had kissed her, and it damned well better have been on the hand.


	16. An Annoying Habit

A/N Someone asked if I write the story continuously: I write a chapter about every other day and post once it makes through my available beta readers (whom I LOVE!). It's not intentional that it ends on a cliffhanger. I don't purposely end a chapter with something that I think will make everyone gasp. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't but I do hope regardless of how the chapter ends that people come back to read more. Thank you for your interest!

E/N The Leaches have arrived. Archie kissed Julia. He kissed my Julia!

If anyone has any questions for me (not Gabrina, but me) please ask in your reviews. I will answer one question per chapter so make it good.

Ch 16

Five years. It had taken me five years to earn a kiss from Julia and this damned Archie Leach waltzed through her front door, spit out a few compliments, and gave her a kiss without asking.

He kissed her. That tea-drinking twit kissed Julia. What I wouldn't have given for a chandelier in the foyer.

The way I saw it, there was no other choice but to remain in Julia's home. If I left, protecting Julia from Leach's roving hands would have been impossible. For my own sanity I needed to stay.

"You forgot your violin!" Hermine shrieked. That woman sounded worse than the phonograph she had sold Alexandre. I was tempted to cover my ears in order to save my hearing.

"Oh, you're not going to play for us?" Julia pouted.

Perish the thought. I rolled my eyes and snatched the mask from the table. Someone needed to stop this nonsense.

"How could I possibly play before a master of music?"

Apparently he would compliment anyone.

I stepped cautiously down the hall to an unseen portion near the stairs and regarded the three of them standing in the foyer. My eyes were trained on the Englishman. He was standing far too close to Julia, and she allowed him to stand beside her. Even with the mask covering my face I still lifted my hand and held it over my cheek.

I didn't have a chance to keep her.

While they continued to chat I stepped away and leaned against the wall. My mind reeled. Staying or leaving would make no difference. Archie Leach had charm. He was tall, handsome, and he was sweeping Julia off her feet.

There was no pain deeper than knowing she would have been mine if this dolt hadn't shown up again. My obsession with Christine had been a fruitless endeavor. With Julia I had dared to hope everything could be different.

Real.

What I felt for her was genuine, built on knowing her rather than admiring her from a distance. What had once been a new bloom of affection quickly turned into dandelion seed scattered by the indifferent wind. I was helplessly rooted in the ground, an old, battered stone forced to watch her drift toward her new home, her new happiness.

"Has Mr. Kire arrived?" Archie asked.

"I haven't seen him yet," Julia lied.

My head tilted back and rested against the wall. She was embarrassed to be seen with me. Perhaps she hoped that by the time she returned I would be so humiliated by her display of affection that I would crawl out the back door again.

She couldn't admit to these friends of hers that I was in her kitchen waiting to be allowed out. Everything inside of me ached. I remembered with agonizing clarity how it felt to watch the narrow shaft of light cast beneath the cellar door fade as sunlight dwindled. I recalled how it felt to be so alone. The worst moments in my mother and father's house were when I heard them moving about. It was agonizing to know they were home but had no desire to see me.

Julia, how could you do this to me? How could you be so cruel knowing I could hear each word?

"Let me see if he has come in yet," Julia said.

She jumped when she rounded the corner and found me standing in the hall.

"Have you decided to stay?" she asked quietly.

I righted myself and crossed my arms. Scowling, I looked from Julia to the hallway where Hermine and Archie stood chatting. "Where did he kiss you?" I asked in a harsh whisper.

"Pardon me?"

"Where did that man kiss you?"

Her brow knit as she considered my question. "On the cheek. Why?"

"Why did he kiss you?"

Julia shook her head. She reached for my right hand, but I turned away and kept it protectively over my face.

"He's a childhood friend, Erik. It was like having my brother kiss me on the cheek and nothing more."

"He thinks you're beautiful." My heart sank. The familiar feeling of grief threaded its way through my insides, strangling every hope I had ever had of being with Julia for the rest of my life.

"He was just being friendly."

"Too friendly. He's being far too friendly." I looked away from her, my chest heaving. A ragged sigh left my mouth. It was a standard greeting, but at the moment I didn't care. He didn't belong near Julia. He was too perfect for her and too threatening to me. What a flawless couple Archie and Julia would make, and what a lonesome fool I was to ever think differently.

"If you want to go home go now and I'll tell them you weren't feeling well. You may return later if you wish. I'll leave the kitchen light on…"

"Why would I come back?"

Julia's face contorted in horror. She was too taken aback by my words to offer a reply.

"Miscreation or a masterpiece. Hardly a decision," I muttered as I took my hand from the masked side of my face.

I started to turn and walk back home but my defeat was not yet absolute. Archie Leach called my name from the end of the hall.

"It's an honor to meet you, _Monsieur!_" he said in his distinctly English accent. "Julie didn't tell me who you were until you left the other day. I apologize for not introducing myself."

My back was still toward him as he spoke. For a moment I stood with my fingers splayed against the wall and an idea brewing in my head. I considered knocking him to the ground and cracking his skull open. It was as much as he deserved for groping Julia.

It took everything inside of me to turn and face that wretched man again.

With a smile on his face and his hand outstretched he hobbled forward.

He hobbled.

My eyes were immediately drawn from his face to his right leg. I knew I shouldn't have looked, but I couldn't help but stare. His footfalls were uneven, his right step more of a stomp on the hardwood floor while the left was normal gait. From where I stood in total disbelief I saw the leather straps holding the wooden leg in place beneath his pant leg. With each step he took toward me it was blatantly obvious that he was missing his right leg.

It was a strange thing to find fascination in another man's fault. If Julia hadn't gently squeezed my arm I might have stared at his right leg for hours.

"Erik, this is Archie Leach. Archie, this is Erik Kire," Julia said.

"It's a sincere pleasure to meet you, _Monsieur_," Archie said as we shook hands. He grimaced slightly and put the majority of his weight onto his left leg.

"How do you do, Monsieur Leach?" I asked mechanically.

He clapped his hands once. "Fine, thank you. I must say when Julie dear—"

"Julie dear?" I turned from him to Julia, who only smiled nervously.

"She told me she knew _Monsieur _Kire the composer, but I thought she was jesting. When she said the two of you had known each other for years I could hardly believe it. Little Julie, the little belle of the neighborhood, living behind a famous composer! And here you are! A-mazing!" He clapped his hands again. What an irritating habit.

"I believe you've met his sister, Hermine," Julia said.

"So nice to make your acquaintance again, Mr. Kire," Hermine said.

Her voice drew my gaze from the one-legged man. We exchanged the expected pleasantries. She clapped, too. My God, they were both obnoxious. Boorish people paddling across the channel, clapping all the way. Merrymaking idiots.

"How do you like your new phonograph?" she asked.

"I think it's the most dreadful contraption in the world and frankly I think Edison should be blindfolded, stood up against a wall, and shot to death."

The little weasel broke out in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Julia, you were correct. He does have the most delightful humor."

Even though I expected it I still shuddered when her dolt of a brother clapped again. "How's that tea coming, Julie dear?"

"I'll start the water boiling."

"Oh no, dear," Hermine replied with her nose in the air. Of course she knew her tea. She was dreadfully English. "You never want to boil the water. Here, let me help you in the kitchen."

"Why don't the two of you make yourselves comfortable in the parlor?" Julia suggested.

"Fantastic! We can discuss Verdi, Wagner, Bizet—have you heard Carmen?" He clapped again. The damned fool was unnerving. It was fortunate for him that he was handsome. Everything else about him was a disaster.

"I've heard of it, but I haven't seen it." I stared at Julia and hoped she would do something to end this hell.

Archie clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "It would be an honor to tell you all about it. It's a good thing we have all afternoon. Julie dear, the kitchen smells wonderful!"

It was a shame I didn't have a rope. Archie disappeared around the corner. His movements were slow, his fingers skimming the wall, right foot dragging along the floorboards.

He winced in pain when he moved.

"You will stay for tea now, won't you?" Julia asked when we were alone. Hermine had scampered off to the kitchen saying she would start the tea.

I was still staring down the hall when she spoke. "What happened to him?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"An accident. It was a long time ago."

"What sort of an accident?"

"If he wishes to tell you, he will," Julia replied. She straightened my overcoat and took a step back to look me over. "Though if you ask him what happened to him don't be surprised or insulted if he asks you about that." She gestured toward the mask.

I ignored her comment. "Does he have an explanation for all of that racket?"

"What racket?"

I clapped. Julia smiled and shook her head. "He's just excited to meet you."

"If he does it one more damn time he'll contain his mirth."

"Monsieur Kire, have you seen Julia's new phonograph?" Archie shouted down the hall.

Dear God. Leach really was true to his name. I could feel him sucking the life out of me.


	17. Two Bulldogs for Tea

_Per request of my readers: A full recap thus far in five sentences or less..._

_Julia and I were to begin a courtship. She insisted on waiting. While we were waiting to begin the courtship the two most obnoxious people in the world moved into a house dow the street. RecentlyI found a cat with a broken tail and one eye. I've actually started to relate to people within my home._

_Q&A Do you wear boxers or briefs? What does this mean? Would you like me to be brief? Why would I wear a boxer? Are you referring to the men punching one another or the breed of dog?_

Q&A_ Will you marry me? Absolutely not. _

Q&A Something about relating to Archie or whatnot? If I tell you anything further I will have to punjab you all. If my feedback stops I will be highly irritated.

Note from Gabrina: I will be gone all weekend and I will also be gone next weekend. I will attempt to update one more on Saturday or Sunday. Read and Review!

Oh and someone had mentioned Archie Leach being Cary Elwes. It's actually Cary Grant. At least they're both British--and Cary Grant would have been great in The Princess Bride. :)

* * *

Ch 17

Archie was rubbing his right knee when I walked into the parlor. He was too busy attempting to massage the pain away to clap when I entered and reluctantly sat down in a chair across from him.

What in the hell were we going to discuss? I wondered. Since I had never made tea for myself I had no idea how long this endeavor would take. Julia was far more tolerant of ignorance than I was, so I suspected she would not return immediately to the parlor.

She had left me to my fate.

"So, Julie tells me Alexandre is your son?"

"Yes."

"He plays with Lisette?"

"Yes." His French was so poor that I replied both times in English to make him stop the slaughter of our elegant language.

"I've noticed you speak English very well," he remarked.

"I know I do."

Archie glanced up at me before turning his attention back to his knee. "How old is he? Alexandre, I mean to say."

"Almost nine."

"Very nice," Archie replied. He grimaced again. "I was there when he bought a phonograph from my sister. He was quite impressed with it."

"Unfortunately," I mumbled under my breath.

"He's a very intelligent boy. I should have known he had a genius for a father. Was his mother talented at well?"

"Yes."

"Julie didn't say much about her. I apologize for prying."

I looked away and pretended to scratch my arm. It seemed to me that enough time had passed between the hens entering their chicken coop and us sitting down in the parlor. Tea should have been done.

Archie leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Between you and me, those things are an insult to music. They're a disaster." He clapped again—of course. "They'll never catch on. No one will be able to tolerate that scratching and ungodly distorted sound for long."

I hated to admit it but I agreed completely.

"What you said about Edison is exactly how I feel. The first time I listened to one of his machines I wanted to break my own eardrums, but of course when Meanie started selling phonographs for our uncle I couldn't exactly tell her they were dreadful."

I grunted. Feelings needn't be spared when good music was at risk.

"Of course after a while I learned to tolerate it, though I admit I'm a bit sick of Elgar now. There's a tin that comes free with the phonograph and it happens to be his Salut d'amour—did you know our family made the tins?"

"No."

From the way Archie rambled on there was no need for me to make conversation. He was doing fine on his own, with my occasional 'yes' or 'no' serving as little more than an indication that I still had a pulse.

"You've never heard of Leach Phonograph Tins?"

"No."

He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Leach Tea Trade?"

"No."

He slapped his hand on his knee and snapped his fingers. Honestly, I needed a rope to tie him to his seat and force calm on the irritating man. Not even Alexnadre insisted on moving about so erratically.

"The Leaches are everywhere! Phonographs, tea, textile trade, just about everywhere one travels through Europe there's a Leach."

"Fascinating." That was reason enough for me not to resume traveling.

"Archie, are you boasting about the Leaches again?" Hermine stood in the doorway with a tray of desserts. Finally there was a distraction. Unfortunately it was another Leach. "Tea is almost ready. Is Archie boring you? I didn't think so. With the two of you getting along so well Julie and I could leave you in here all afternoon. Enjoy!"

She placed the tray on a small table between us and left again. It suddenly seemed very unfortunate that Julia didn't keep anything but wine in the house. Though I never favored drink, Archie Leach was driving me closer and closer to the bottle.

"My little Julie dear knows the famous Erik Kire! Fifteen years ago no one would have believed it!"

I nearly dropped my plate. She was not his little _anything_.

Archie tapped his fork against his plate. "You know she was the shyest girl in Bristol when her family came for their summer holiday. Always hiding behind her brothers and sucking on her fingers." He tapped the fork against the plate again. Apparently he needed to be obnoxious. If his hands were full he found other ways to fuel his desire to irritate the holy hell out of me.

"Honestly, I'm surprised a hundred men aren't beating down her door after she became a widow. Really, I cannot believe all the bachelors in Paris aren't standing beneath her bedroom window and quoting sonnets. If any of the boys back in Bristol knew little Julie Falchetti was unspoken for, there might be a riot on this side of Paris." He rapidly began tapping his fork on the plate. "Bring out the barricades! Bring out the barricades! Julie Falchetti is in Paris. That's how it would be if the boys back home were aware."

He infuriated me. She was spoken for. She _would be_ spoken for as soon as our damned courtship began.

"She needs a decent man to care for her," Archie said. He leaned forward and placed his plate on the table between us. "Someone better than what she has had in the past."

He had insulted me. My fingers curled tighter around my utensil. He was treading a very thin line.

"Did you know Louis?"

Archie's question surprised me. I had expected he referred to me with his comment. It took me a moment to find my tongue.

"Briefly."

Archie nodded. He ran his palm over his knee, shrugged, and glanced at the phonograph. I would kill him with my bare hands if he played the damned thing. I could tolerate his ramblings but that….absolutely not. As an artist I had standards.

"I suppose between living with him and living alone she is happier now," he said under his breath. He looked at me again, his eyes drawn to the right side of my face. It was only fair that I had stared at his right leg and he would stare at the masked side of my face.

"She's hardly alone," I mumbled. I set my plate on the table and looked toward the door again. They really were going to leave us to this torture all afternoon!

"True, she does have Lisette," Archie replied. "Though I worry about the two of them living in a big, empty house without a man around. If I had known she had no one around I would have insisted on moving here years ago." He paused and stretched his left leg. "Though I admit it's quite impressive to see your home directly behind hers. I suppose if you felt so inclined you could keep an eye on her abode for her."

"Yes." I wondered if he was implying that I was a voyeur peering in on her daily activities.

"Well, now that Meanie and I have moved into the neighborhood you and I can share the duty of protecting the ladies," he chuckled. "We'll be a couple of regular old bulldogs patrolling the boulevard."

Just when I thought it impossible to despise him any more than I did, he growled like a dog.


	18. The Erie Sisters

There was a recap but MS Word crashed twice in a row. Therefore I have exhausted myself. The most important thing I need to tell you is that I am not running about 'commando'. Frankly, I find that rather disturbing. We wear drawers. Honestly! What I wear beneath my trousers should be no concern of yours…._ladies!_

_What would I change if I could change just one thing? I believe it would be my appearance as if I were born as a normal man there would be nothing to tell._

_Then again…perhaps not…._

The tea party is almost at an end. Archie Leach is a twit.

Ch 18

All the while Archie continued to speak about absolutely nothing I couldn't help but wonder why Julia hadn't told him we were to begin a courtship. Was she embarrassed to tell him she had agreed to see me?

The longer he spoke the more I suspected he hadn't allowed her to get a word in edgewise. He was an incessant rambler. Of course the only other man I spoke with was Charles and he was a bookish, reserved fellow, well bred and mild mannered. I think I had heard Archie Leach talk more in a half-hour than I had heard Charles speak in a month.

"You know you're more pensive than I expected. From your last opera I expected a rambunctious, passionate man." He raised his hand, palm out. "Not that I am disappointed in the least, mind you. Quite the contrary. Ever since _Bella Donna _I have admired your work."

"_Bella Donna?" _I questioned. That opera was eight years old and had been submitted under the name EJ Lowry.

"Well, unfortunately _Bella Donna_ wasn't your first work I had the good fortune of discovering. I missed its opening in London. But it has always been one of my favorites. What's the song Ann Cannington sang in it? The one about rain?"

"Bitter Rain of Summertime," I replied.

"Yes, that one is my favorite, I daresay. Now if that was on a tin…"

"How did you know I wrote _Bella Donna_?"

"Well, honestly, it was from practicing at home on the organ. Did you know the Leaches make organs? My uncle makes the best organs you'll ever hear in Amsterdam. Chances are if you own an organ it's a Leach Organ. What was I saying? The music. Right. Thank you.

"The first piece of music I heard was the overture to _Swan's War_. Absolutely beautiful music. I wanted ol' Meanie to hear it but she was in New York the summer it opened. What year was that? '87?"

"Eighty-six."

"You're right. In '86 she was in New York so she missed the opening, but I was so enamored by the whole show that I memorized the overture. Six months later _Bella Donna_ played for a short time in a small theater—a very small, mind you. They cut some of the cast. Once I saw it again in London I realized they had butchered the whole thing. But I'm digressing again. The overture for _Swan's War_ and the song about the rain and summertime have the same opening six chords. The ending notes are similar but not exact, though I thought it was obvious to anyone who has studied music long enough." He stopped to snap his fingers. "Oh, now I really wish I had brought my violin so I could play it for you--that is, if you would hear it."

I tapped my fingers along the arm of the chair, using it as an imaginary keyboard, and went through the notes to both songs. I'll be damned. He was correct.

"It was genius of you! So genius that you didn't even realize what a masterpiece it was until now."

God Bless Meg Lowry for arriving at Julia's house with the cinnamon rolls when she did. She most certainly saved the last shred of my sanity and that half-witted, dimple-chinned, clapping Archie Leach. I couldn't believe that he had pointed something out to _me_ regarding my own music! He was simply galling!

"It sounds like more guests have arrived. Shall we see to the ladies?" He rose and limped out of the parlor before I had a chance to reply.

"Where is Monsieur Kire?" Meg asked.

"He's in the parlor," Julia answered.

"Alone?"

"No, he and Archie are together."

"Oh." There was a long pause from Meg. "Really?"

A clap signaled Archie had entered the kitchen. I rose from my chair and slowly trudged toward the lot of them. The last thing I wanted was Julia in the same room as that idiot.

"Good afternoon, Meg darling!"

"Good afternoon, Archie. How are you?" Meg replied.

I walked in behind him and stood in the doorway while he kissed Meg on both cheeks. She blushed and averted her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron. I had seen her do this before when a handsome traveling salesman had come to the door.

"Meg, why don't you join us for a while?" Hermine suggested.

Meg shyly stepped toward the back door. "Thank you, but I should start supper soon."

"We just finished making tea. It's mint tea. From Morocco."

"Very exotic," Hermine added.

Not one of them turned to acknowledge me standing in the threshold. Meg was showing Archie what she had brought for dessert, Julia and Hermine were still discussing how unique their Moroccan mint tea was and I stood in the threshold watching all of them. Consequently I was the only one who heard the knock at the door.

I walked to Julia and placed my hand on her arm. "There's someone at your door."

"Oh good," she said. She glanced up and met my eye.

"I have an opera due," I said.

With a frown she nodded. "Stay here. I'll see you out the door in a moment. You will wait for me, won't you?"

"Yes," I sighed. "But I have an opera to finish so make haste."

She smiled back. "Lisette is upstairs. If you wouldn't mind, she and Alexandre are going to play for a while once Alex has completed his studies for the day. I'll tell her to be quiet when she is over."

I nodded. Whenever Lisette came to play I stayed in my room.

Julia patted my hand and kissed me gently on the left cheek. "Thank you for staying," she said quietly before she turned to everyone else. "The Erie Sisters are here. Would you all be so kind to join me in the parlor?"

Hermine said goodbye and walked down the hall with the tea tray. Archie lingered a moment, shook my hand with both of his wrapped around it as though I were a well pump, and followed his sister. Meg stood by the door waiting for me to leave.

"Good afternoon Jillian, good afternoon Candace."

"Good afternoon, Julia. How are you? Is Archie here?"

"He is," Julia replied.

"Mother," Lisette called down from the top of the stair.

"Ladies, won't you please excuse me while I see to Lisette?"

"Of course, dear," one of the Erie Sisters replied.

I heard the stairs creak as Julia climbed to the top to attend her daughter. Their speech became muffled as they disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs.

"Do you suppose that other fellow is here as well, Candace?"

"The one always creeping into her house? The albino?"

I stepped cautiously into the hall, carefully keeping my back to the wall. From the angle of the front door to where I walked they couldn't see me listening in on their conversation.

"Albino? No, dear, I believe it's a mask." Jillian said.

"Not very Christian of her," Candace snorted. "First she has a man walking into her house in the middle of the night. That was bad enough, but now a mask? Goodness, what would the neighbors think?"

I inched down the hall, stopping only when I could see a white bonnet bobbing back and forth atop one of their heads. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see this terrible woman for myself but knew it would be unwise to step further down the hall.

"And now there's two, Jillian."

"Well, yes, but at least he seems decent. That mask—who knows what could be beneath that thing. If you ask me, I think it's just lewd."

Jillian chuckled to herself. "Well, one man with a mask and another with a wooden leg. It seems our darling Julia can't find a decent man."

They both cackled in delight, those hateful, horrible women. I wanted to walk into the foyer and scare the hell out of them both so that they never returned.

"She had a good one with Louis. Now that was a man," Candace replied.

"His death was very unfortunate. It seems that she still hasn't recovered, the poor woman. I'll pray for her soul tomorrow."

"There she is," Candace said quickly. "Quiet down, Jillian."

"Oh, Julia, how is Lisette?"

"She's well. Ladies, would you like to join Archie and Hermine in the parlor? I'll be with you in one moment."

I had forgotten about Meg until I turned and found her at my back. I nearly knocked her to the floor. In silence I shooed her into the kitchen.

"Tell Julia I couldn't stand here and wait for her all afternoon," I growled.

"Monsieur—"

"I said tell her!"

Meg protested no further. She stepped aside, lips pursed and fists bound around her apron.

By the time I reached the back gate, my nose was running again.


	19. Meeting Lisette

_So many questions! Gabrina insists I don't have enough time to answer all of them. I'll answer two for the moment:_

_Who has the best depiction of me? Well, I would say Gaston LeRoux. Who was the dolt who asked that question? _

_Who was better? Michael Crawford or Gerard Butler? Neither. I am the best me. Those are merely imposters._

_Who was my favorite composure? Verdi. He was a genius. Gabrina insists that I mention a band called shurman. She has some unhealthy obsession with them._

_My notes for what has happened I left Julia's house after I overheard two of Julia's guests speaking ill of me. They also had nothing nice to say about Julia and Archie Leach. _

GS19 

In the years since I left the opera house for my own private home I thought I had become immune to hatred. Nine years made me believe that some snake elixir existed, that time was the inoculation for how the world scowled at me.

But there was nothing that would ever change my fate. Everything they said stung the same way it had when children threw rocks and called me a carcass. Hiding was easier than tolerating their cruelty. But solitude was not a remedy. It was nothing more than a bridge I hid beneath while life walked over me.

Only now it included Julia. Those terrible women not only slandered me but they spoke ill of Julia and questioned her decency. And what did I do? I walked away, nose running, eyes burning in the bright sunlight.

That angered me most of all. Cowardice sent me home, tail between my legs. Thirteen years of haunting and terrorizing an opera house and I refused to confront two old cows.

With the curtains drawn I sat at my desk and watched a candle burn down to a stub. I pinched the flame out with my index finger and thumb and held the extinguished wick until I could no longer feel anything against my seared flesh. By then the sun had set, so when the candle was out I sat in the dark and listened to the sounds of those who lived within my house.

It seemed as though nothing had changed over the last nine years. Once again I was shunned by individuals who didn't know me as anything but a mask and a dark shadow. Once more I found myself isolated in my room. I could have saved two years worth of money I saved from extortion and remained beneath the damned opera house.

I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands. Julia would not be pleased by my leave. She would be livid at me for disappearing when I promised that I would wait until she returned. I wanted to be angry at her as well but couldn't bring myself to rise above my self-deprecation.

The only thing that challenged my melancholy thoughts was the damned cat climbing up my back. She didn't make a sound as she padded from her place on the bed to the desk. A soft mew was the only warning before she snagged her claws in the back of my shirt and pulled herself up to my shoulder. Her face rubbed against mine and loosened the mask.

Even in darkness I had no desire to remove it. I held my hand to my cheek to keep it in place as the cat continued to rub her head against my jaw. After a while I tired of her and placed her on the floor.

It was then that I learned how persistent cats are when they desire something. Aria mewed a second time, a stern order from a tiny creature that fit into the palm of my hand. She mustered up every ounce of determination and climbed up my pant leg, nails digging into my calf and thigh until she stood on my lap and pranced about.

Her need for attention forced me to turn on the lamp. She purred triumphantly and waved her tail around, showing off the white bandage and makeshift splint I had placed on the tip to keep the broken bones in place. I was quite surprised she had not removed it while I was out.

"I should have named you Archie, you irritating thing," I said as I dropped her back onto the bed. Once I set her down I wondered if she was perhaps looking for food rather than attention. It had been several hours since she had been fed.

If she protested my actions I didn't hear it. There was a stampede up the stairs accompanied by the cacophony of laughter.

It was Alexandre and Lisette.

Alexandre pounded on my door which made Aria arch her back and draw her ears flat to her skull. Her tail turned from a thin little rat's tail to what looked like a chimney sweep's broom.

"Father, are you in?" Alexandre asked as he tried the doorknob.

"I'm working Alex," I replied.

"May we see Sophia?"

"No, Alexandre I have music to finish. And her name is not Sophia. That's no name for a cat."

"Will you finish soon? Madame Seuratti said Lisette has to leave in an hour."

"Good evening, Monsieur Kire," Lisette said in a pleasant sing-song tone.

"Good evening, Lisette," I droned. The extent of our conversations took place behind a closed door. Now that I would be courting her mother it seemed rather inappropriate to speak to Lisette through a closed door.

"Alex, has Meg returned?"

"I don't know."

I sighed quietly. The house wasn't as big as a museum. He was being exceptionally lazy in not looking for her.

"The cat needs to be fed."

He proceeded to shout for Meg from the top of the stairs. I unlocked the door and peered out.

"Where are your manners, child?" I snapped. He stepped back from the door, wide-eyed at my outburst. "Look for her. Where were you raised? A bloody barn?"

"No, sir."

"Fine then. Make haste lest you want the animal to starve to death."

Alex scrambled down the stairs but Lisette remained curiously behind. She stood in her dark blue frock with her arms relaxed and her head tilted to the side. A Mona Lisa smile clung to her lips as she gazed up at me.

"May I help you?" I asked. I shifted my weight impatiently.

She shrugged. "I've never seen you before."

"True," I replied, though I had seen her once or twice before in passing. The longer she remained standing before my bedroom door and staring at me the more uncomfortable I became. Our conversation seemed to be at an end and I considered closing the door again, though if she was anything like her mother I suspected she this would not stop her.

"Why aren't you with Alex?" I asked.

"I'd like to see the new cat."

"Perhaps another time," I replied.

She crossed one ankle behind the other. "Do you think Mother would mind if I invited you for lunch tomorrow?"

My eyes narrowed. "What would that accomplish?"

My tone was harsh. Her blue eyes widened. It was uncanny how much she looked like Julia. There was not a trace of that mongrel father of hers in her expressions or appearance. Even the manner in which she reacted to my appearance was the way Julia had always treated me.

"Accomplish?" she asked, turning her head to the side. She tapped her finger against her chin.

"Never mind. You should inquire with your mother first," I said, harnessing my tone.

She nodded slowly. "Will you come to lunch tomorrow? If I ask Mother and she agrees."

Seeing as how I had walked out of her house without a word I was fairly certain Julia would not ask me to lunch. "If your mother agrees."

Alexandre dragged Meg around the corner and attempted to pull her up the stairs. "I found Madame Lowry," he said proudly.

My gaze switched from Lisette to Meg, who was staring wide-eyed at the little girl standing at my door.

"Warm milk," I said in order to gain her attention.

Meg walked halfway up the stairs with her hand extended. "Lisette, my dear, your mother would like you home now."

"Yes, Madame Lowry," Lisette replied. She looked to me again and smiled wanly. "Good night, Monsieur Kire. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Mademoiselle Seuratti."

She giggled at my reply. "When you marry Mother you may call me Lisette."

"How do you know this? How do you know I was asking for her hand?"

Lisette shrugged. "Mother told Meg what sort of ring to tell you to purchase. It's very pretty."

Her response made me smirk. "She did, did she?"

"And for the quality, it's very reasonable."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind when I'm at the jewelers."

"Ask for Roberta, the jeweler's wife. Mother knows her very well and trusts she won't rob you blind."

The girl was a parrot. "I'll remember that as well. Go on now."

She hopped down the first two stairs before gazing at me from over her shoulder. "Monsieur, what am I to call you when you marry my mother?"

Her question left me with my mouth gaping open. I released the hold I had on the bedroom door, which swung open wider.

"Lisette," Meg called again. "Monsieur Kire is very busy."

She frowned as she turned and joined Meg and Alex. Without being asked, Alex bounded back up the stairs.

"Bye, Lissy," he said with a wave. He turned and faced me. "May I feed the kitten?"

"Absolutely not."

"Awww," he pouted.

"Have you lost your head today? See your guest to the door," I told him.

"She's not a guest. She's going to be my sister," he said with a sour face. Lisette returned the expression. When she saw me staring at her she stood a little straighter and pursed her lips, doing her best to appear innocent.

"Well, for now she's your guest. See her to the door."

Alexandre walked down the stairs, legs bending dramatically as though I had handed him a boulder twice his weight.

I watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen. Once they were gone I exhaled. My main focus for the last few weeks had been on marrying Julia. Not once had I considered that a marriage included a family, one consisting of hers and mine combined. Vows did not only mean the exchange of rings, it meant a wife and daughter. It meant a father for Lisette and a mother—a real mother—for Alex.

A daughter. Now that was a foreign word to my tongue.

I only wondered if Julia would consider our courtship now that I had disappeared from her home.


	20. Confined in Dark Recesses

_Honestly your questions have exhausted me! I didn't think anyone would ask me a thing but of course you have proved me wrong. _

_Let me see…How do I like being a sex symbol? A What! Clearly, Madame, you have gone mad. _

_Do I see myself as a teacher again? No, I believe I have retired. _

_When will I stop spending so much time in my room? When there is a good reason to come out._

_My favorite poet is songwriter Roger Clyne. Go to rogerclyne (dot) net. _

_We are quite through! On with my story!_

GS 20

A family. I closed the bedroom door but left it unlocked and sat at my desk.

My mind had not yet grasped the concept of a son, a daughter, and a wife. A family. _My _family. It was certainly not an idea I had ever seriously entertained. There had been no reason to torment myself with such a preposterous thought.

My mother had once told me that I had been the bane of the family she and her husband had hoped to have. Her husband's last name would die with him. In fear of what would come from their union they had decided not to have more children. She often told me such things as she pushed me into the cellar or beat me with a switch.

They did not share compassion with me, let alone their surname. Allowing me to live was as much of their mercy as I would ever experience.

My life had taught me nothing about loving a wife or caring for a family. Alexandre was still an enigma to me, and he had been in my life for nearly nine years. What would I do with another child?

Lisette's reaction was still beyond comprehension to me. Julia must have explained the mask to her so that she would not recoil in horror. Still, to stand alone before me was commendable. She was a good girl, a brave girl.

She was on the verge of becoming my daughter.

From years spent living beneath the opera house I was accustomed to spiders and mice and even the snakes and salamanders that lived in the lake. Once in a while I would find a snake in my bed, which I would deposit somewhere far from my apartments.

Rodents and reptiles I could tolerate. A nine year-old girl left me terrified.

While I sat alone with the cat again on my lap, Meg saw the children to the back door. I wanted to finish my music but my mind was elsewhere and there was far too much commotion. Alex was telling Meg a story about something Charles had said to him. I heard Meg bid Lisette good-night and close the door. She then sent Alex to her mother, undoubtedly pawning him off on someone else for a while. Not long after she knocked on my bedroom door.

"I have the milk," Meg said. "May I come in?"

"It's unlocked," I replied.

"It's…so dark," she said when she entered the room.

"It's always dark," I muttered.

From the sound of her breathing I knew Meg was standing at my back. I twisted in my seat and raised my left brow.

"She asked about you," Meg blurted out. "Madame Seur—"

"What did she say?"

Meg pursed her lips and turned away. She was going shy again, fearful of my anger.

"What did she say?" I sighed and rubbed my eyes. With each passing second it was becoming increasingly difficult to mind my temper though I knew that if I wanted information I had to curb my wrath.

"She was upset," Meg said then hesitated. "She didn't understand."

I turned back to the desk and stared at the half-empty page. It was as I feared. If Julia agreed to see me again she would demand answers.

The floor creaked as Meg shifted her weight. "She didn't hear anything they said. She was upstairs with Lisette, so when she came down and went into the parlor no one told her what had been said. And of course by then you had left and…Madame Seuratti had no idea. If she hadn't been with Lisette then perhaps—"

"I know where she was," I growled.

Meg was silent for a moment. I heard the cup and saucer clank on the dresser. Aria abandoned me for the prospect of a meal.

"I hope you don't mind…." Meg stopped abruptly.

I turned again. She didn't have to speak. I knew what she was about to say.

"When did you tell her?" I asked. My anger took over. "In the parlor? Before the guests?"

"No. After the party."

"In front of whom?"

"Candace and Jillian had already gone. And Hermine returned home, so it was just Julia…"

I snorted.

"…and Archie."

She gasped at her own words. I couldn't even begin to estimate the level of terror that she experienced the moment she revealed this to me. I turned away from her again and stared at a knot in the wood on the surface of my desk.

Meg and I were tangled in a vast web that stretched over more years than I was willing to count. Lately we had compromised and struggled toward its center before returning to our own reclusive corners. There would never be a time when we could relate. The other night when I had walked her home was out of the ordinary. It would never happen again, especially not now.

What Meg had done was unforgivable. I couldn't bring myself to reply as I was so infuriated by her treachery. Telling Julia was acceptable, but she had humiliated me before Archie Leach, and he was the last person on the face of the Earth that needed to know anything about me or my life.

"Why?" I asked at last. "Why would you do this?"

"She asked why you left. I told her you were very busy with your writing, but she was very upset," Meg said without taking a breath.

"Upset?" I growled. "She was upset?"

I shot up from my desk chair with every intention of telling Meg to get the hell away from me. Before I was on my feet she backed into the dresser and rattled the cup and saucer.

"She did nothing wrong."

My gaze shifted from Meg to the doorway where Julia was standing with her arms folded.

"If she hadn't told me, Archie would have."

Her voice was stern, which irritated me. She would have no right to be angry with me had she known what had transpired in her absence. I would not tolerate her chiding me.

I waved my hand toward Meg, excusing her from the room as I returned to my chair and sat with my back to Julia. Meg and Julia exchanged whispered words briefly before the door shut.

"May I stay?" Julia asked.

"That depends on why you're here," I replied, keeping my eyes on the unfinished opera pages scattered over my desk.

Julia was quiet for a moment. She released a ragged sigh.

I turned to face her and found her sitting at the end of my bed. The look on her face was remorseful. Her shoulders had dropped and her chin nearly touched her chest.

"Julia—"

"I owe you an apology," she said before I could finish speaking.

Her words garnered my full attention. All of my life I was told to apologize for my appearance and my boorish manners. It was rare that someone offered me an apology.

"For what?"

"For what happened at tea. If I had known what had been said by the Eries about my guests I would have asked them to leave."

"But they're your friends."

"Anyone who says something so terribly ignorant is not a friend of mine, Erik." She shook her head. "Candace and Jillian are no longer welcome in my home."

"You needn't do anything so rash," I said. I turned away from her again and studied the label on the ink well. I'll be damned if it didn't say Leach Ink. Those people truly were everywhere.

"I will not tolerate people coming into my home and saying such things about my loved ones. They don't know you or Archie."

"They seemed fond of him," I muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

I glanced at her from over my shoulder. "They asked if he was there. It was quite apparent that they think he is handsome."

"Yes, but to say something about his leg was uncalled for. They are grown women! They should know how to behave better, those stupid old cows."

Her words made me smirk. It wasn't often that Julia spoke in such a manner. She was always dignified and refined. To hear her call the Erie Sisters stupid old cows made me snicker.

"Erik, I came over to apologize to you for what happened. I also wanted to ask you if you would come to lunch or dinner, if it is just Hermine and Archie who are invited."

I groaned. "Why can't you and I just have dinner together? Alone…"

"We can," Julia agreed. "But you and Archie seemed to get along so well, I just thought—"

"According to whom?"

"Hermine. She said you were both quite gregarious when she walked into the parlor."

I twisted around in my seat, appalled by her words. "The woman is daft! I said half a dozen words—if that—the entire time I was in the room with that man."

"He was very excited to meet you."

"I don't care what he was! My God, Julia, that man is highly irritating!"

Julia laughed and rolled her eyes. "To you everything is irritating. That's what your headstone will say one day: 'Here lies Erik Kire, composer. I found everything highly irritating'," she mocked me.

"Are you attempting to put me in my grave soon?" I questioned.

"Would it subdue your irritation?"

"Probably not."

"Well, then…." She chuckled.

We sat in silence for a moment. The only sound was the cat lapping up warmed milk and pushing the tea cup closer and closer to the edge of the dresser. I rose and walked to the dresser, holding the cup so that she didn't knock it to the floor in her haste to be fed.

"Alexandre told me you hadn't given her a name yet," Julia said softly.

"There's no need to name the thing. She isn't staying," I replied under my breath.

"I know you too well, Erik. You most likely named her the moment you picked her up."

"You only think you know me."

"What did you name her?"

"I didn't…" I made the mistake of looking at Julia, who had turned her head to the side and raised a brow at me. I sighed in disgust. "Why is everyone so damned obsessed with this animal? It's only a cat."

"Yes, but it's a cat _you_ found."

"What of it?"

Julia grinned. "You're the least likely man to have a kitten stowed away in his bedroom." She rose from the bed and joined me by the dresser as Aria finished her milk and began cleaning her paws. "By appearance you're a gruff old man."

"Old indeed," I scoffed.

"It just galls you to have others know you have a heart, doesn't it?" Julia asked. She leaned on the dresser with her chin cupped in her hand and watched the cat fall over and clean herself. "How long has it been since you last had an animal to care for?"

"We've had the dog for about a year—or shall I say _I've_ had the dog for about a year."

"And before that?"

I turned away from her and took the cat with me. Once I deposited the ball of fur on the end of the bed I sat down at the desk again and searched for a pen.

"Before that? What do you mean 'before that'?"

Julia didn't say anything. I hated it when I asked a question and no one bothered to answer. I felt obligated to continue speaking.

"I found a dog once," I muttered. "But that was years ago."

Still Julia said nothing. I turned and saw her crouched down on her knees by the bed. She glanced at me and smiled.

"It was looking for scraps behind the butcher's shop. I wasn't supposed to be out of the cellar."

"The cellar?" Julia asked. The horror in her voice made me turn to face her again.

"I spent most of my time there," I said before I turned away again. "I brought the dog back with me. It was a damned bag of bones. Ugliest thing…one of the ugliest things in the world."

I paused and removed my mask. Perspiration had made it rather uncomfortable, so I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped my forehead.

"It was really only three days," I rambled on. "The damned thing ate half of my dinner each night and then slept beside me."

"In the cellar?" Julia asked quietly.

My answer was a nod. "Stupid thing."

"What happened to the dog?"

My back straightened. Over the years that had passed I had forgotten the little trembling skeleton I had found one evening. The soft, warm tongue that had licked my face, the whip of a tail that had made its whole backside wriggle had been buried in the back of my mind, in the deep recesses long lost.

"My father found it," I replied.

"He wouldn't let you keep it?"

I shuddered. "He slit its throat and tossed it onto the street."

"My God. Why?"

"Because it was his lesson. He said it would teach me to stop sneaking about."

Julia went quiet again. I heard her walk across the floor and thought she was leaving. Suddenly I felt her arms drape around my neck, which startled me. She pressed her face to my neck and sniffled.

"What did you name the dog?" she whispered.

My eyes closed and I gently kissed her forearm. "Aria."


	21. What's Done is Done

_My conversation with Julia concerning my childhood continues. If there were new questions I forgot what they were. I appreciate your kind words and all of the love. All I can say is: Gabrina who?_

Ch 21

My words upset Julia more than I had expected they would. By the sound of her sobs I feared it would be quite some time before she composed herself. My only hope was that she would calm herself soon because I despised the sound of her crying. It was such a pitiful sound, one which brought dreadful memories to my mind's surface.

In silence I reached over my shoulder and rubbed the top of her head. My fingers moved down until I caressed the nape of her neck. That seemed to quiet her some.

Her tears wet my neck and shoulder, and the sound of her sorrow drew the cat from her place at the end of the bed. She would have climbed up Julia's skirts had I not scooped her up and placed her on the desktop again.

"Did they…force you…into the cellar?" Julia whispered once she lifted her head.

"It was my place," I said flatly. My attempt to quell her apprehension only made her cry again.

"How long were you were down there?"

"A while," I answered. My mindset was that if I was vague enough it would cease her barrage of questions. "But it was a long time ago."

"Days? Months?"

I rose from my seat and motioned Julia into the chair while I sat on the bed. I shrugged at her question. "Months. It makes little difference now."

"How long?"

I lost my desire to look at her. She made me feel ashamed of myself even though I had no control over where I had been kept. Minutes, hours, days weeks…it no longer mattered. Every heartbeat of that living solitude had been hell. It was not a fate I had chosen for myself.

"I don't know," I said under my breath.

"Days?"

"Why are you asking? What difference does any of this make? I'm no longer a child and I sure as hell don't want your pity."

She rubbed her eyes. "I just don't understand," she said quietly. The cat hopped into Julia's lap and leapt onto her shoulder. Julia rose from her chair and walked to me. Handing me the cat, she sat beside me on the bed. "How could anyone keep their child in a cellar?"

"I shall lock the bedroom door if you intend to stay," I said. My throat felt drier than usual, my palms sweating as she continued her infernal interrogation. The cat curled up on the pillow and closed her one good eye. With her belly full she wanted nothing else to do with us and soon fell asleep with the tip of her broken tail covering her nose.

"Why did they do it?" she asked again. "Why would they put their child in the cellar?"

The honest answer was a mistake but Julia irritated me with her constant inquiries.

"The church said it was a sin to suffocate me at birth but they seemed indifferent to keeping a child in hiding." I paused and looked away from her, focusing my full attention on picking lint from the coverlet. "I was not a good child. It was the place best suited for me, Julia...why must you continue this?" I asked before I rambled on any longer.

Her arms wrapped around my waist. I sat motionless beside her, my brow furrowed and hands folded. Her queries were giving me a headache.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she whispered against my chest.

I snorted. "What was I supposed to say? 'Good evening, Madame, would you care to undress while I tell you about my days in the cellar?'" I forced a laugh though Julia said nothing, which made me look away.

She lifted her head and studied me with her puffy, bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face.

"What happened means nothing to me," I said harshly. "It was only a worthless dog. No one cared what happened to the damned thing."

Her fingers touched my chin. "You cared."

"I shouldn't have cared. Damned animals are always more trouble than they're worth. All they do is expect food and shelter and for what? Bloody worthless beasts."

Again she said nothing. There was no reason for her to speak when she knew I was bluffing. She may not have known my past as well as she would have liked, but she knew me. She saw me like a curious child saw the inner workings of a timepiece. Perhaps she didn't quite understand what made the clock tick but she understood the mechanism as a whole. I had a strange feeling she was going to take me apart, wheels and screws and springs.

"I buried it," I said without looking at her. "Sang it a requiem. My song earned me a good beating from the priest the next day." I tried to laugh again but it was hopeless. If she kept on like this I would need a handkerchief. My sinuses already threatened to drain again.

Julia kissed me on the cheek. Her gesture made it nearly impossible to withhold a sob. I balled my hands around the coverlet and clenched my jaw so tightly I thought my teeth would shatter. In the silence between us I heard Alexandre laughing downstairs. He and Charles must have been talking again before it was time for Alex to go to bed.

The sound of his voice made me pull away from Julia.

"I swore a long time ago that I would never hit Alexandre or harm him in any way. I've stayed true to my word. He lives well. He has everything he wants. Food, fine clothing, caretakers, a good education--"

"And a father who loves him."

I nodded. "He has that. Finally."

"He's always had that, Erik. He knows it and he loves you."

I glared at her. "I loved my parents as well.

My voice faded at the end. When I thought about them now it was harder to convince myself that I had loved them. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to erase everything that had happened before Alexandre was born and before I met Julia.

She turned away from me briefly. "Is that why your childhood means nothing? Because you loved them despite their cruelty?"

"There is no reason to discuss this. What's done is done."

Julia placed her hand over mine. "Is it done?"

I wanted to nod, to tell her that nothing mattered, but I couldn't do it. My heart was pounding and my hands shaking. The longer I sat with her, the harder it became to control the terrible swell of emotions I felt inside.

"They're both dead now. They have been for years."

I wanted to rise but she held onto my wrist and leaned into me. She rested her head against my shoulder, her tears soaking through my shirt.

"Julia," I whispered. My throat was closing.

"You don't need to say anything more. I only want to sit with you."

Silence was intolerable to me with her in the room. I ground my teeth and fought the urge to tap my foot. I needed distraction, I craved something that would block out everything in my mind.

My upbringing—or lack there of—had been described in rational, reasonable details before I fled from my parents' home. I knew why I was kept alone. My mother explained to me the night before I picked the lock and stumbled into the darkness.

"She went through two days of labor," I said quietly. "She nearly bled to death when the midwife turned me so that I would come out correctly." I grunted. "It's ironic when I think about it."

"I was in labor for sixteen hours with Lisette. It didn't make me love her any less."

"Two days," I said, ignoring her words. "She said she endured two days of screaming and pushing and what was she handed? A monstrosity with half a head. She had every right to be disappointed."

"Locking a child within a cellar is not disappointment, it's inhumane."

I had no desire to listen to her. Thirty years had passed since those days. There was no need to think about what had happened.

"Would you have put Alexandre away if he disappointed you?" Julia asked.

"It's different," I muttered.

"No, it's not."

Her words angered me. I pulled away from her and stalked across the room. "Are we done, Madame Seuratti?"

"Erik—"

"Are we done, Madame Seuratti? You made your apology. If you have nothing else to say I must finish writing my music."

She was quiet for a moment. The bed creaked as she rose.

"You know you should thank Meg."

I turned to face her. "I beg your pardon?"

"When you left my house this afternoon she convinced me that you had a good reason," Julia said. She kept her distance from me. "And she was the only one who said anything to Candace and Jillian."

It was my turn to be silent and force her to continue.

"She told them that you were a very good man and that if she ever heard them say something ridiculous about you again she would slap their ears back."

I was taken aback by her revelation. "Why would she do such a thing?" I grumbled. It was the only thing that came to my mind.

"She always speaks fondly of you," Julia replied. "Or she says nothing at all."

"I gather she is silent then?"

"Oh, Erik," Julia sighed. "Don't you ever speak to the people in your own home?"

Her words were meant to be sardonic. When I made no reply she only frowned.

"Lisette told me she invited you to lunch," Julia said at last. "I must say that came as quite a surprise."

"Because she was brave enough to ask it?"

"No, because you were brave enough to face her."

"What does that mean?" I snarled.

Julia shook her head. "You've always avoided her."

I crossed my arms and regarded her for a moment. "I see you've warned her already?"

"Warned her? What do you mean?"

"She showed no fear when she came to the door with Alex."

Julia shrugged. "Why would she be fearful?"

I stepped toward her and kept my gaze trained on her face. "Why indeed? Why would anyone be fearful of this?"

Julia came to me and reached for my arms. With a light tug she found a better use for them: around her waist. Despite her need to torment me with her questions I enjoyed holding her. It had been far too long since I had looked into her hazel eyes and counted the freckles along her thin nose and rosy cheeks.

She raised a brow. "You saw her while you weren't wearing the mask?"

"No, I was wearing it. She didn't say anything?"

"She said she met Alexandre's father—and then she proceeded to tell me that she told you about the jeweler's wife."

"Roberta, who will not rob me blind."

Julia blushed. "Yes, that is the one." She looked away.

I panicked instantly when she turned from me, fearing I had told her too much of my past. She was not pleased with me.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she replied. She looked at me again though her eyes were fixed on my hairline.

"Have you reconsidered after all I told you?"

Without a word she placed her head against my chest and closed her eyes. I heard her inhale and exhale deeply.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Julia?"

"Who was the first person to tell you that they loved you?"

"Alex."

"And who was second?"

My throat felt tight again. I rested my left cheek against the top of her head and sighed. "You were the second," I said at last.

I kissed the top of her head and held her tightly until my eyes dried.


	22. Nightmares and Blessings

_Q: Cats or dogs?_

_A: Neither. They're both worthless and prone to fleas_

_Q: Do you prefer singing or playing?_

_A: Playing is more enjoyable as singing tends to remind me of Christine_

_Q: Do you prefer the violin or the organ?_

_A: In my home I have a violin. I do want a piano but Madeline might not appreciate it in her room, which would be the only space for it._

_E/N Julia drew memories from me like poison from a wound._

Ghost22

"My love," Julia murmured. "Promise me something."

She lifted her head and ran the backs of her fingers along my right cheek. I both loved and hated it when she touched the damaged skin. Since the first time she had seen me without the mask I feared she would eventually ask me to cover my face again.

Her eyes were filled with sadness when she looked up at me. I caught her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"I would do anything for you, Julia."

"Swear to me that you will trust me in the future."

"I trust you now."

Julia pursed her lips. "I know. I just wish you would have told me this before."

Her words surprised me. I furrowed my brow and searched her eyes for answers. "Why would you want to know this?"

"Because it's you," she said matter-of-factly.

"It's not me. That's the most asinine thing I've ever heard you say."

"Erik, I don't want to argue with you. I merely want to know more about you."

"You don't understand," I sighed.

"Then explain it to me so I will understand," she said gently.

Her persistence irritated me. Good intentions were not good enough. "Why in the hell would I tell you something I don't want to think about?"

She looked away and closed her eyes. "I'm not attempting to make you suffer."

"I'm not suffering," I snapped. "It's been over thirty years—"

"It's been five years since I…" she paused and looked away."…lived with Louis. I still think about him. And no, I don't miss him. Not at all," she added quickly.

"I don't miss them either," I whispered back. "I forgave them the night I found Alex beneath the opera house. I thought I could merely say the words and change everything."

"It's not so simple, I know," Julia replied. "Thirty years, five years—it doesn't make it any easier to forget. There are nights that will remain with me for the remainder of my life no matter what."

I nodded. I knew what she meant. There were nights I still woke with a start and swatted invisible hands away.

After all that Julia and I had discussed I knew sleep would be elusive that night.

Aria woke up from her brief nap and jumped down from the bed to see what the fuss was about. She circled around Julia's legs and pawed at me to pick her up. The creature was insatiable.

"Damned thing," I muttered as I nudged the cat with my toe.

She had the audacity to latch onto my pant leg and start to climb my leg again. I snatched her from the ground and held her up to chest level.

"Tonight is your last night," I told her sternly.

"Oh, stop," Julia scolded.

"What? She's destructive."

Julia turned her head to the side and took Aria from my grasp. "She's too small to be destructive." She scratched the cat's chin. "Aren't you? You're too small and furry."

"Well, congratulations, Madame. You have a new cat."

"I couldn't take her," Julia chuckled. "I've seen how you fuss over the dog. I simply couldn't tolerate you asking me every waking moment whether she was fed or not."

Aria struggled in vain to escape from Julia until she placed the cat on the floor again. That damned cat gave me a questioning look and trotted away, tail curled into a question mark. If I didn't know any better I would have sworn the cat was jealous of Julia.

"She seems fonder of me than you anyhow," I replied.

Julia smiled and kissed me on the lips, which was the most dangerous thing she could have done at that moment. After one kiss I wanted another, and then I wanted something more than an innocent gesture. I wanted to lock the door, toss her on the bed, and do what had been constantly burning in my mind since the moment she suggested this damned 'appropriate' courtship.

Her lips parted when I kissed her, which only encouraged my desire. The feel of her soft lips, the taste of her mouth, and the warmth of her leaning into me was a maddening concoction.

I placed one of my hands on the back of her head and kept the other on the small of her back. Her arms wrapped around my neck and drew me closer.

Julia realized what I wanted once I attempted to lead her to the bed. She shook her head at me and stood up straight. Her lips were swollen from our kisses and her hair mussed from where I had run my hand along the back of her head.

She had me completely tied in knots. I couldn't remember when I had been so damned frustrated.

"I should probably return home," Julia said.

"Yes, probably," I pathetically moaned.

Julia narrowed her eyes. "Honestly, Erik, what would Meg and Charles think?"

"Charles would congratulate me and Meg wouldn't say a word."

"And Alex?"

"He doesn't know what mating is yet."

"Well…"

"Well why do you think there's a lock on the door?"

"They can hear through the door."

"And do you mean to tell me we will never sleep together after we marry? Because if that's what my fate holds then I'll save my money rather than give it to the jeweler."

"You wicked old man," Julia chuckled. She playfully poked me in the chest. "When we're married it will be proper to share a bed."

"I'll tell you quite honestly that your 'proper' courtship is driving me mad and we haven't even begun the damn process."

"In the end it will be worth it," she said.

I started to follow her. I had every intention of persuading her into bed. She snuffed out my burgeoning desire by closing the bedroom door behind her.

I blew air past my lips. The cat tugged on my pant leg and mewed at me. When I glanced down at her there was no doubt in my mind that she was quite satisfied in how my evening had ended.

0-

There were doors that I had thought were locked and barricaded in my mind. Thoughts, feelings, memories Julia had inadvertently set free. She was like a bear with its paw in the beehive.

My only hope was that I could keep her from being stung.

A tree branch scraping the window woke me in the middle of the night. I stirred, kicking and punching to free myself from the sheets that I dreamt were bindings. My biggest fear was crying out and alarming the household.

Nightmares plagued me with varying degrees of intensity. On good nights I woke with my heart racing. On bad nights I felt a hand or belt or stick come down across my back.

I woke and ran my hand against my chest to be certain the skin hadn't split open. The vividness of a terrifying recollection left me trembling like the frightened child thrown down the stairs so many years ago. The corner of the last stair had stabbed me in the center of the chest. Alone and blinded by darkness I had held my hand over the bleeding wound and screamed to be released from my dark prison. The wound had sealed and my voice had gone hoarse before I saw sunlight again.

Their neglect was the reason I held Alexandre from the time he was brought to me up until he screamed to be put down and allowed to explore. After all of my diligence I had nearly failed him over the last year.

At night it became impossible to forgive myself even if Alex forgave me.

My pillow was damp when I sat up and attempted to steady my breathing. I removed the pillowcase and turned it over, but wasn't able to fall asleep again. I suddenly felt ravenous and restless.

Once I donned a robe and lit a candle, I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen for a glass of water and whatever was left over from dinner. After Julia had gone I hadn't bothered to come down for food and no one brought me anything.

"Ingrates," I mumbled to myself as I walked into the kitchen.

Meg and I scared the hell out of one another.

"Is there a bed in here I don't know about?" I grumbled.

It was a wonder she didn't hit her head on the ceiling she had jumped so high. 5 In the dim candlelight I could just make out her white robe and the frantic movement of her hand as she fanned herself out of her alarm.

"You're awake," I heard from the far corner she had backed herself into.

"Evidently," I snapped. "Where's dinner?"

"It's…two in the morning. There's only soup and vegetables left."

"What did you make for dinner?"

"Rabbit in wine sauce."

"Where did that go?"

"Your son gave the leftovers to the dog."

"The dog indeed! Does the dog pay your salary?" I pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down hard. The kerosene lamp in the center was lit but turned down low. I turned up the lamp and made the room reasonably brighter. I was starting to feel groggy again and placed my hand against the right side of my face while resting my elbows on the tabletop.

It seemed to me that I spent more time eating alone at the kitchen table than my servants—though I was certain Meg and Madeline didn't consider themselves servants. The house often felt like a rather expensive gift I had given to them—one which they, in turn, allowed me to share. Of course I don't know what I would do if Madeline ever addressed me as "Yes, Monsieur" or "No, Monsieur." We referred to each other as equals where I used her first name and she used mine. Meg and Charles, however, were normally quite formal.

It was starting to grate on my nerves. In the back of my mind I could almost hear Julia laughing. Perhaps I should have drawn up plans for my headstone to make certain there was enough room for my famous last words: highly irritated.

Meg didn't answer my question about whether or not the dog paid her wages. She took a small pot out of the cabinet and lit the stove to warm the soup.

I held my head in my hands and closed my eyes again. "What in the hell are you doing down here in the dark?"

"I was going to clean the dishes."

"At two in the morning?"

She didn't answer. It was starting to become highly agitating that everyone I questioned had the audacity to withhold answers. Since it was the middle of the night and I was half-starved, I wasn't in the mood to argue with her or pound my fists on the table. My best assumption was that she had been frolicking with Charles.

I leaned back in the kitchen chair and peered through the window. It wasn't a surprise, but it was still disappointing that there was no candle lit in Julia's bedroom for me.

Julia's words regarding the incident between Meg and the Eries was still in my mind. Meg, the little wallflower, had bared her teeth at the Eerie Sisters.

She angered me because I had not asked her to defend me. It was insulting that she thought I needed a woman to protect me. I needed no one. My life had been lived alone and there was no need to start begging others to take up arms on my behalf. My years in the opera house showed that I was perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.

Of course, Meg was always so timid that her alleged outburst impressed me. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her actions. She was loyal. But why?

My eyes opened to see Meg standing over the stove stirring my soup with a wooden spoon. She stood at an angle so that I could see half of her face. Normally when I looked at Meg I still saw a young girl. Her fair complexion and petite frame always gave her an air of eternal youthfulness. Her mother was the same way. Few would suspect that Madeline was nearing the age of fifty. Her years of dancing made her strong and healthy. Sometimes I thought the two of them were like well-bred racehorses.

With her face masked in shadows around her eyes and under her nose and her cheeks golden with the firelight playing against her delicate features she looked more mature. I didn't know what it was about her that made me think she was any different.

Perhaps she had gained weight. Her face did appeared fuller, though even I had enough good sense not to mention that to a woman, especially while she made my food.

She sighed and rubbed her stomach with her free hand. She had gained weight around her middle as well. It was starting to alarm me. Meg was letting herself go.

"Are you awake because you've been under the weather?" I questioned.

She turned and nodded before walking to the cupboard and taking a bowl out. "I've been sick for several weeks," she replied.

"Several weeks?"

"It's nothing to be alarmed about," she shrugged.

"Have you seen a physician?"

"Oh, yes."

"Did he give you anything for your condition?"

"No," she answered. Soup spilled from a ladle into the bowl. She wiped the edges and brought it to the table.

"Did he say you would return to health soon?"

"This condition usually lasts about nine months."

I slammed my hand on the table. "What in the hell sort of doctor attends you? Nine bloody months? What in the…"

Nine months. Before I said another word it registered in my mind. I stared at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a moment. She smiled coyly in return and wiped her hands on her apron.

It seemed that she had been frolicking with Charles after all.


	23. Extended Family

A/N I'm really busy over the summer and don't have a lot of time to write but I won't slack on my stories! Expect about 2-3 days between updates.

E/N In the last chapter Meg announced that she is expecting a baby.

Ghost23

After I received Alexandre, I knew I would carry one regret forever. Christine I could live without. I knew that at last. But I would have given anything to know those months leading up to my son's birth.

Meg's condition was a mystery to me. Obviously I knew the process of copulation, but the after-effects of conception eluded me. A thousand thoughts entered my mind all at once, each one making me more apprehensive than the one before it.

Yet, there little Meg stood before me without a care in the world. She stood while I conspicuously regarded her rounded belly and full face.

"Should you be standing up?" I asked so suddenly that she jumped again.

Meg untied and retied her apron. She studied the floor to keep from meeting my eye. "I'm fine."

"Sit down."

She gave a closed-lip smile and brushed loose strands of hair back from her face. "Really, I'm fine."

"Sit. And eat, for God's sake."

"I had supper."

"For one. You mustn't starve yourself. No one wants a baby born skin and bones." My words made me shudder. I had been born early, a skinny little pathetic thing my parents hoped would die and be forgotten.

"Honestly it's too late at night for me to eat."

"How long have you been…affected?" I asked for lack of grasping for a delicate term.

"Four months?"

"Four months?"

My God, it was my house and I was oblivious to what happened within it. As I stared at Meg I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Meg and Charles were adults. They could do whatever pleased them at the end of the day—and apparently they had—but four months was a goodly long time. I should have been informed.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I demanded.

"To you?" she asked incredulously .

Meg sounded so appalled by the thought of sharing this or any other aspect of her life that I turned away and placed my hand over the right side of my face. Her life and welfare were no concern of mine. She merely worked within my home.

I shoved the bowl away, sending a splash of hot soup onto my hand. "You should return to bed and rest yourself," I said gruffly.

The chair scraped across the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her sit and cross her arms.

"That wasn't how I meant it," she said quietly.

I refused to look at her. "You needn't explain yourself to me, Madame."

She made the loudest sigh of disgust I had ever heard. "You're the most dramatic and self-deprecating person I have ever known," she snapped. "When would we have informed you? You never come downstairs."

"Seeing as it is my house, you could have told me sometime over the last four months," I spat back.

"I considered telling you this afternoon before you became cross with me. After that I didn't want to speak with you again. Ever."

"Very mature for a woman in your state!" I said, slamming my hand on the table.

"No less mature than you are every single day."

Meg wasn't with child, she was infected by some rabid beast that had stolen all of her good sense. Gone was the reserved little dancer, the apple-cheeked girl blushing shyly in the corner. In her place a snarling bear emerged with claws extended. The growling, red-eyed grizzly was not afraid of me in the least. All of her life she had been the perfect little butterfly. What in the hell had come out of that cocoon, I wondered. A dragonby the fire she suddenly breathed.

I sat back and stared at her, partly appalled and partly fascinated by this unexpected transformation. In my extensive reading over the years I had learned of the plights of gestation. I was at least vaguely familiar with difficulties associated with the condition. Quite frankly I would have preferred that she suffer a bout of nausea rather than have her sharp tongue aimed at me.

Before I had time to respond she folded her arms, bowed her head and began weeping.

Well hell, I thought as I picked up my spoon and tasted the soup. I had no idea what to do other than eat. There was no consoling a woman in her condition. She was in such a state that anything I did would have been wrong.

With that in mind, I finished my soup in silence. Meg barely made a peep.

"Retire for the night," I ordered as I pushed away from the table.

Meg's eyes were dry by the time I was prepared to leave the kitchen. She sniffled and nodded.

"I apologize for my behavior," she squeaked. "I don't know what came over me."

The change in her disposition from one minute to the next was dizzying. I silently prayed for Charles' sanity over the next five months. If she was like this in my presence I couldn't imagine what she would do to docile Charles.

Still, I was wary. Alexandre had taught me a week ago that the worst thing in the world was to turn and run from a bear. At the time I had no idea how that bit of information would do anything to better my existence as I didn't expect to encounter a bear anytime soon.

His odd fact suddenly seemed very relevant.

I stood perfectly still.

Meg slouched low in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "Quite honestly, I didn't know how you would react. This is your home, if you chose to release us from employ—"

"I wouldn't toss you on the street, for God's sake," I snorted. Her insinuation irritated me. "You've been here for nine years. Do you honestly think I'm so heartless as to send a woman with child into the slums?"

"No, but—"

I sat down again. "But what?"

"You have a son. The house is quite full."

"I'll decide when it is full," I snapped.

She looked away. "I apologize, Monsieur Kire."

"Release you from employment indeed. Why in the hell would I desire looking for a new cook? Or a tutor for Alexandre? Honestly, Madame Lowry, I haven't the patience or the desire to search for new help. Dismissing the two of you would do me more harm than you."

"I beg your pardon?"

With a sigh I cupped my head in my hands and smiled. "It's far too much trouble. Madeline wouldn't stay if you and Charles left, and where would that leave me? With an ignorant child in a dirty house. Besides, no one else knows how much salt I like or how to make a damned cinnamon roll."

I glanced up and saw Meg's eyes brighten. The child I had seen grow up into a young lady flickered back into existence for a moment like a firefly flashing in the infinite night. Her hand fell over her heart in a show of gratitude for my words.

"I didn't know if you would want another child in the house," she said timidly. She reached for the emptied soup bowl but I pulled it back toward me. "I haven't finished the dishes," she protested.

"It's half past two in the morning. Dishes will be waiting in the sink when you wake."

"Mother will do them by then," she said under her breath.

I shrugged. "Give the old girl something to do. It will keep her from peering over my shoulder. She doesn't seem to trust me. I can't imagine why," I said dryly.

Meg pursed her lips to keep from giggling. We glanced at each for a heartbeat, both staring at one another like conspirators in the night. When she wasn't raving I found her company almost tolerable. By the slight smile on her face I dare say she thought the same of me.

She sniffled a final time and rose from the table. "Do you need anything further for the night or may I retire?"

"You shouldn't have been awake at this hour as it is. A woman in your state needs rest and nourishment." I forced a smile, still wondering if Alexandre had given Christine insomnia. "I've read extensively. Forgive me for believing I am an expert on the subject."

"Good night, Monsieur…"

She paused.

I kept my eyes fixed on the bowl in my hands and waited for her to finish. In silence I hoped she would call me by my first name and forgo the formality she had insisted upon for the past nine years. Madeline was like a mother to me. I grew tired of Meg merely existing within my home. It shouldn't have made a difference but I wanted to think of her as a sister or cousin and not a nonentity who cooked my meals.

Her back was to me when she spoke next. I watched her clutch the doorframe with her left hand.

"When Alex first arrived I thought you would send him away," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

My breath caught in my throat. I had always known she thought of me as unpleasant but I never knew she felt that I would dismiss my own child. Her comment was a night arrow through my heart.

"Mother was certain you would allow him to live in your home but I wagered you would have her take him to the church. But she always said there was something in your eyes that convinced her you would care for him.

"It was unfair of me to make such terrible assumptions. I know now that you always wanted him. I see it in your eyes when you speak with him."

Her voice broke at the end and she turned to face me, her eyes glassy and lips trembling. She left me speechless. I looked away from her, unable to bear the weight of her gaze.

"When you left Madame Seuratti's home I thought about how you cared for Alexandre. I remembered how you slept on the floor in his nursery and never placed him on the floor when he was an infant. I told Mother once that Alex would never learn to walk." She paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Those women, those terrible women, they know absolutely nothing. Everything they said about you and Archie is ridiculous. I should box their ears the next time I see them. I will if they ever slander your name again."

"You should return to bed," I said before her condition sent her flying out the door in search of the Erie Sisters. I rose and took the bowl to the sink.

"The baby will stay in our room," Meg said as I neared the doorway.

"We could always move your mother into the attic," I suggested. Under my breath I added, "The old bat."

"She is like a mother to you," Meg said.

I wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question. I shrugged in response.

"Do you suppose that makes us…anything?"

"Such as?" I wasn't about to be the one to say it.

"Siblings," Meg bravely replied. She gave a closed-lip grin after she spoke. In perfect Meg fashion she turned away shyly and cleared her throat. "But I always wanted a sister."

"I don't believe I can fulfill that wish."

"I suppose not," Meg chuckled sleepily. She yawned and nodded again. Her display caused me to realize I was exhausted as well.

"Good night. Congratulate Charles on my behalf," I said.

She lingered a moment longer, her head tilted to the side. I realized I hadn't offered her congratulations.

"To you as well," I added quickly.

"Thank you, Monsieur Kire."

Meg took a half-step forward. She tilted her head down and said thank-you. Had I been a normal man I would not have hesitated to kiss her on the cheek and embrace her. The longer we stood there the more evident it became that she expected this same display of affection from me.

A kiss to the cheek was too intimate to share with Little Meg. Time didn't matter. We were still strangers existing in the same cramped abode. Without my mask in place it was far too awkward to be that close to her. If she looked at me nearing her, at the disaster I truly was, she would step away.

More for my own comfort than what was expected I leaned forward and swiftly kissed her on the forehead. She gently squeezed my arm.

"Good night," I said again before I hurried off to bed.

Once I reached the stairs I heard her say, "Good night, Erik."

When I turned she was gone. My sister, I thought, my sister had gone to bed.


	24. Unexpected Alliance

_Meg and I have worked out some of our differences. _

_Due to the holiday, this story may not be updated until Monday. We apologize but expect most readers will also be out celebrating the 4th of July. _

Ghost24

As it turned out, Aria was not the perfect houseguest by any means. It took her little over a week to discover that a curl of her tail petrified the dog to no end. This unparalleled delight didn't seem to bore her at all.

Unfortunately for Bessie, Aria's antics amused me as well.

The hound made a valiant attempt at reclaiming my room as her own. She did so when she thought the cat had left. It was quite a sight to see her march triumphantly into the bedroom, her tail wagging and tongue lolling. Just before she plopped down beside me, Aria sprinted from beneath the bed, a little whir of gray speeding through the room. She pounced on Bessie's back and sent the dog barreling from the room. By how much the dog whined it was as if the cat had attempted to murder her.

This happened three times in one morning. I wondered if Aria would tire of her game or if Bessie's heart would fail first. My experiment was cut short when Alexandre burst through the door.

For a moment I thought someone had been shot. He threw the door open with such force that the doorknob punched the wall. I jumped and pushed my ink pen onto the paper, ruining the sheet of music I was working on as well as the blank sheet beneath it.

"Just because the door is no longer locked does not mean you may barge through at any given moment without knocking first," I growled over my shoulder.

He looked slightly embarrassed as he averted his eyes but made no effort to correct his boorish behavior other than offering a mumbled apology.

There was no use in attempting to finish music while Alex was in the room. By the barely contained smile on his face I knew he had something to say and couldn't wait to be asked what he needed.

"Do I still pay Charles to tutor you or does he allow you to roam about?" I asked.

"Monsieur Lowry said I needed to come down in an hour," Alex answered. He swung his legs back and forth and bit his bottom lip. Whatever he wanted to tell me was killing him.

"How are your studies?" I asked.

"Fine," he answered.

"Only 'fine'. What does that mean?"

"Monsieur Lowry said I'm doing very well for a boy my age." His fingers curled into fists. It was aggravating him that I hadn't asked what he wanted.

"What are you studying?"

"Colonialism in the United States."

"Does it interest you?"

"No."

His honesty made me smile as I turned around to face him. "I thought you enjoyed history."

"More than arithmetic," he grumbled. He met my eye again, silently begging to tell me whatever it was that had brought him upstairs.

"You should be on your way. You wouldn't want to be late for your studies," I said before turning back to my music to see what could be salvaged. I hadn't slept much the night before and was feeling quite ornery. Alexandre spent too much time with Madeline evident by how easy he could be riled.

"Father!"

"What is it, child?" I chuckled.

"Monsieur Leach said I could help him and Meanie sell phonographs!"

"Who?"

"Meanie. His sister."

"Mademoiselle Leach," I corrected him. "I assume she isn't married?"

"No," Alex sighed. "Not yet."

He paused to reflect on the idea. By the distant look in his eyes I suspected he was a bit infatuated with the woman who had helped him to pilfer from my bank account.

"May I attend the fair?"

I exhaled sharply. "Honestly, I don't understand what the fuss is about this fair."

Alex groaned softly in disappointment.

I had become lax in discipline since the incident at the Opera House. Alex never asked for much. Typically his more outrageous desires were easily quelled with the offer of pastries, as he had a terrible sweet tooth I can only presume came from me.

He never caused problems nor terrorized the neighborhood, so I couldn't think of a valid reason to deny him a day at the fair. For weeks he had clamored endlessly about how he wanted to see the Hall of Machines again and how he and Lisette were going to ride the elevators up Eiffel's ungodly erection.

The Leaches, though obnoxious, were long-time friends with Julia. I trusted Alex would be safe from harm, though I suppose the greatest danger was that he could obtain several annoying habits from Archie.

"When are you going to help the Leaches rob the innocent public?" I asked at last.

His eyes brightened. "Monsieur Leach did not say."

"Well, how am I supposed to give you an answer?"

Alex shrugged and stood up again. "I'll ask him."

"Don't bother the man."

"Oh, it's no bother. He's downstairs in the foyer."

-o-

My only hope was that at my age my hearing had failed. I rubbed my left ear and turned completely around to face Alexandre.

"I beg your pardon, he's where?"

"He's in the foyer," Alex replied.

"What does he want?"

Alex picked the cat up and placed her on his lap. She looked at me with a questioning gaze and struggled to get away from her captor, but to no avail. Alexandre held her firmly beneath her front legs and scratched her head. With a look of disgust she sat there and suffered him to pet her. The animal looked positively miserable with her ears back and her one eye glaring at me.

"He said he wanted to speak to you about an adult matter."

"An adult matter? What sort of adult matter?"

Alexandre only shrugged. "He was very insistent upon seeing you, Father. Shall I send him up or would you rather come down? Madame Lowry is making lemonade."

Damn it. Something I couldn't quite resist. If lemonade hadn't been involved I would have sent Archie Leach home again. Once my mask was in place, I grunted and climbed to my feet. "Is that what you were so excited about?"

"No," Alex admitted. His giddiness returned with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Then what?" I asked. He followed me out of the room with the cat still trapped in his embrace.

"Monsieur Lowry said I have to write a paper about the most fascinating individual I know."

"I see," I said over my shoulder. "Do you know anyone who qualifies as fascinating?"

"I've narrowed it down to three—no four. But two of them don't actually count."

"Oh? And why is that?"

I turned to see Alex leap off the third step and land on the floor. Aria gave a shrill cry, kicked Alex with her back legs, and made an amazing feline acrobatic catapult onto my chest where she clung like a fly until she clawed her way to my shoulder. Her needle-like nails dug into my shirt and my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain.

Before I could reprimand Alexandre for his foolishness he trotted down the hall. "The other two are girls. They don't count."

How lovely, I thought. I was going to have to have a talk with him later. With a sigh and a trembling cat perched on my shoulder I turned toward the front door.

"Mon-sieur Kire. Bon—"

"Good morning," I replied.

"Afternoon, actually."

Five words and he was already irritating me. "Alexandre said you wanted to speak with me?"

"That cat has one eye," he said.

"Yes, the other was gouged out."

He grimaced. "Terrible people in the world," he said with a shake of his head.

My patience waned. The previous day I had received a note from an opera house in Venice asking when to expect a copy of the work they had paid for three months ago. If I delayed much longer they would demand a refund.

"May I help you, Mr. Leach."

He clapped, because that was what he did, and glanced down the hall. "Is there somewhere we could speak?"

"The parlor," I yawned.

Without being directed he headed off down the hall as though he owned the place.

"What is this about?" I asked as I followed him into the parlor. He limped to the corner and sat down—in my favorite chair. With each passing second he was truly dancing the fine line of his mortality.

"Julie dear," he stated. "And her brother."

I closed the door and sat across from him with Aria nestled in my lap. She looked about the room and decided it was time to explore her new home.

I dropped the struggling cat on the floor and looked to Archie. He had my attention if nothing else. "What about them?" I asked.

"Her brother Maximilian will be paying her a visit shortly. They've…had differences in the past."

By using the word differences he avoided saying that Julia and Max hadn't spoken in over five years. I stared at Archie Leach and wondered if he knew why they hadn't kept in touch.

"Julia should be pleased," I said once nothing else came to mind.

Julia rarely spoke of her family. They were little more than names to me, ones hissed in bitterness if mentioned at all. She had told me once that she had every right to be angry with her brothers and sisters. Her family had abandoned her while she was married to Louis, siding with him when he claimed Lisette belonged to a different man. Disgraced, their own sister was left with a man who in no way deserved a moment of her time. Thinking of him enraged me.

Archie's jaw twitched in response to my comment. The longer we sat in silence the more apprehensive I became. Something was wrong. Archie, who seemed like the sort of man who talked to hear his own voice, sat with his brow furrowed. He grimaced and rubbed at his knee where I assumed the wooden leg met with his kneecap.

"Pleased," he said at last. He tapped his other hand on the arm of the chair. Aria took it as a signal that she was needed and pranced over. Rather than using his pant leg, she leaped onto the arm of the chair. "I gather you have never made Max's acquaintance?"

"No, I have not."

"You knew Louis Seuratti though?" He picked Aria up and set her back on the floor. "The hair bothers me," he explained.

I leaned forward and picked Aria up so that she and her long hair wouldn't harass him any more.

"I met Monsieur Seuratti once." Right before I strangled the miserable bastard. I knew enough about him to despise him. I wondered what he had done to Julia before I moved into the house behind hers. It still angered me that I hadn't killed him sooner.

Archie grunted. "I could never tell Julia this, but I don't consider Louis a great loss in the world. It's an insult to pigs to say the man had all the attributes of swine."

"They appeared ill-matched," I safely replied.

"You didn't know him well enough," he said quietly.

Ours eyes met and I was certain he knew what Julia had endured. In the time span of a heartbeat I felt a kinship with Archie Leach followed by a twinge of jealousy that he knew her better than I did.

"She's content here," I replied. "The neighborhood, as I imagine you have noticed, is quite safe."

Archie's mouth hardened. "Max claims to have her best interest in mind, just as he did when Julie dear first married that Seuratti fellow."

I waited for him to continue, my hands wrapped around the arms of the brocade chair.

"As you know, my family has been friends with the Falchettis for years. I first met Julie dear when she was around the age of five. I suppose you could say we have longevity."

Damn him! Longevity was mine! If he had designs on my Julia there would be hell to pay. My feral anger flared back to life as he paused and regarded the bookshelves.

"Mr. Kire I apologize for perhaps coming off a bit strong yesterday. Julie dear has always been like a little sister to me. It wasn't until after teatime that Julia informed me of your courtship."

He glanced up and saw my face straighten with anger. I assumed Julia was embarrassed to say she was being courted by such a ghastly man.

"She was afraid that her brother was sending old friends to keep an eye on her. Once she was assured that Meanie and I haven't seen Max since childhood she told me about your new relationship. Of course it was hardly a surprise. She's very fond of you. Very fond indeed. The first day I saw her again all she talked about was what a wonderful musician and composer you are. She was beside herself, really. It's about time there was a good man in her life. It horrified me that she was alone in Paris all these years—though I suppose she was not truly alone. I trust you will keep her safe from harm?"

I nodded once. "I have always kept her safe," I replied.

He nodded slowly. "She has said as much. I know you are a very busy man and I apologize for taking up so much of your time today. By all means, when Max comes to visit do make an appearance," Archie said. He groaned and stood up, favoring his right leg. "It would be best for Julie dear if she was not left alone with her brother or any of his bachelor friends."

My heart stopped. I shot up from the chair and stared coldly at Archie. "I do beg your pardon, Monsieur Leach."

"As I said," Archie responded coolly. "Max claims to have her best interest in mind. If his interests are anything like Louis Seuratti, I suggest you make an appearance or two. It would be good for Julie to see her suitor while her brother is in town."

He smiled pleasantly and offered his hand. I readily accepted it.

He was helping me. This man I barely knew was helping me.

"And what do I owe you for this…delicate information?"

"This is not a bargain, Mr. Kire. I can tell you quite honestly that I want what is best for Julie. She hasn't quite had that yet and I think it's high time she did." He looked out the window at the trees with their bright green leaves. "Louis forbade her to write to Hermine while they were married. We had no idea what had happened to her," Archie said under his breath. "The last time I saw her he had blackened her eye. Now from what she has said you are a decent fellow but I will warn you once, Mr. Kire. If she is ever bruised and if I discover it has come from you…there will be a severe penalty."

He was threatening me but his reasons were admirable. I reached for the door. "My hand does not easily fly against women or children," I replied.

"Good day, sir," Archie said, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Enjoy your lunch with Julie dear and Lisette."

He walked out of the parlor just as Meg came in with lemonade. With two hours until lunch I had much to consider.


	25. Florets

In the last chapter, Archie told me about Julia's brother planning a visit. He was concerned. Now I am also concerned.

Look for a very short story about Alex coming very soon. In the next two weeks it should be on It is not yet titled. Probably will be called Things Learned through the Heart.

Ghost25

Archie's words left me in a foul mood. My stomach knotted as I thought of Julia and the horrors of her past. Despite never having made his acquaintance, I worried for her safety while her brother was in Paris.

It would be difficult to protect her from my home. What I feared was that I would be as successful at guaranteeing her safety as I had been in the years before I finally ended her hell with Louis. If I had known we would have a relationship in the years that followed I would have murdered that man on the first night I moved into the house.

Her muffled screams still whispered through my mind, little ghosts of a past she wanted to forget and I wanted to erase from existence. I felt like I had wasted my years bleeding my heart for Christine when I should have dedicated my nights to Julia.

I wished I had known her all of my life. When I looked at my beautiful Julia I wished I had known her since childhood. Through the crack in the cellar door I had watched boys and girls interact. That was what I wanted, a lifelong friend, which was what I perceived these children to be. Any friend, really, as beggars cannot be choosers, but I could not imagine anything sweeter than saying I had known Julia all of my life.

The way Archie had known her. The way Raoul knew Christine. The way I knew darkness and solitude.

Everything would have been different had I known Julia. I would have been a better man and she would not have a small scar by her eye or the invisible internal scars of being beaten and raped by the man who had sworn to love her.

The night I killed Louis I pledged she would never experience such torment again. It made bile rise in the back of my throat to think that her brother's visit was a threat to her safety.

From what I knew of Max he was a strict man. After Julia's father died, Max had assumed the role of patriarch for the family. By his mere presence he usurped power from his uncles and cowed them into submission.

When Julia spoke of him her voice shook. She was terrified of him, of her own brother. I knew how it felt to fear a family member and it made my blood boil to think she was frightened of Maximilian.

I vowed he would come to Paris and find his own reason to feel fear if he so much as looked at her in a way I disapproved of.

"Do you want lemonade?" Meg asked, interrupting my thoughts. I had forgotten that she walked into the parlor.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. I needed something to drink. Lemonade would have to suffice.

She smiled and set a cup of sugar cubes on the table before leaving an empty glass and a pitcher of lemonade. She knew me well to bring extra sugar.

"You are taking lunch at…" She paused when I tossed the spoon aside and dumped the sugar cubes into the empty glass. "…Madame Seuratti's today?"

"Yes, Alex will be gone as well," I answered as I poured lemonade into the glass and stirred up my concoction. "Have his studies commenced for the day?"

Meg was so silent that I glanced at the doorway to see if she was still standing there. She was staring at the glass in my hand and the snowstorm of sugar spinning around.

"Do you always use so much?"

"What of it? Are you attempting to shame me for using what I pay for in my own house?"

"No, I was thinking that if you require more sugar I'll bring an extra bowl up to your room," she said, ignoring my outburst.

I nodded curtly and took a sip of my drink. Perhaps an entire cup of sugar was a bit much, I thought, but I valiantly gulped it down lest Meg say anything.

"How are you feeling?" I asked before Meg left.

"Fine," she answered.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes. Plenty." She turned to leave.

"How long have you been on your feet?"

"I've been mending clothes for most of the morning. You needn't worry about me." She spun around to face me again, her eyes sweeping through the room. "Do you need anything else…Erik?"

It was strange to hear her say my first name. I pulled my lips into a nervous smile. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"The post arrived. Your bedroom door was open so I left it on your writing desk."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope you and Alex enjoy lunch," she said before she turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

The sugar made me sick to my stomach. I heard Charles and Alex across the hall as I left the parlor. Before I could pass by unnoticed and return to my room, Alex called out to me.

"How many broccoli florets do you think you could put into your mouth all at once?"

"Pardon me?"

These were the questions he asked that made me wonder what Charles taught him all day.

With an exasperated sigh, Alex asked me again. I scratched behind my ear and studied him before looking to Charles, who looked embarrassed and gave a shrug as a response to my questioning gaze.

"Alex, I have no idea."

"May we find out?"

I shifted my weight. "What purpose does this serve?"

"It's an experiment," he explained. "Charles has agreed to participate."

"Monsieur—" Charles started nervously.

"Why are you experimenting with broccoli florets?" I asked.

"It's for my essay on the most fascinating person I know," Alex answered. "I need…." He turned to Charles, who whispered to him. "I need to gather information to make a clear choice."

"And the broccoli will bring you to a sufficient conclusion?"

Alex responded with a maniacal laugh. It was in no way comforting.

"We'll discuss this later," I said, motioning him to his feet. "Dress for lunch with Madame and Mademoiselle Seuratti."

Alexandre happily bounded out of the room, arms swinging and feet skipping down the hall. He had made up a simple tune about lunch that he sang all the way to his room. I heard him say 'Lisette looks like a toad because she's gonna be my sister' before he closed the bedroom door.

"Charles," I said once we were alone.

He looked surprised to see me still standing in the library but smiled warmly. "He has short lessons today," Charles said. "Arithmetic, Monsieur. I find Alex does better when his lessons in subjects that don't interest him are sporadic."

I nodded.

"And I suspected lunch would curtail studies for the day."

"He may finish what you have planned later in the afternoon," I replied.

"As you wish, Monsieur."

Whenever I spoke with Charles I couldn't imagine the man involved in combat. He and Meg—before her condition—were the perfect docile match. Charles in particular was soft-spoken. Meg had her moments of grumbling and stomping about the house when something ruffled her feathers but Charles was a bird of a different feather. Anything that arose in the household rolled off his back like water from a duck.

For that reason alone, Charles always fascinated me. He wrote papers for extra income. Several universities were very interested in what he had to say about science and history, both of which had been his main studies. When his papers were not accepted he simply tried again.

We were opposites. On the rare occasion that one of my operas or pieces of music was denied I sulked for weeks and threatened to quit writing music altogether. I envied Charles and his unassuming nature.

"May I help you with something, Monsieur?" Charles asked once he discovered I wasn't looming in the doorway for details of Alexandre's studies.

"Charles, I believe we are contenders in the running for the most fascinating men Alex knows," I sighed. I glanced around the room, attempting to decide whether or not I would sit.

"Yes, we had Madame Seuratti and my wife as competition."

"But they're women."

"I believe Meg was eliminated when she made Alex wipe his face. I'm not sure what Madame Seuratti did," he said with a chuckle.

"Once Meg's condition becomes obvious to the eye she might beat us both."

He sobered immediately. Before he could speak, I lifted my hand and shook my head.

"You're both still employed and permitted to live under my roof. I've discussed this already with Meg."

"It's very kind of you," Charles replied humbly.

I merely nodded. It was far too humiliating to tell him that I couldn't bear the thought of seeing them leave. They were the only people I knew aside from Madeline and Julia. Even if I didn't eat dinner with them or speak with them on a regular basis, it was enough for me to know that they were there in my home.

When I looked at Charles I wanted to pity him. From his vivid retellings of safaris and travels he had been a very social man. By nature I was a recluse. There had not been a choice in the matter.

For Charles to leave the house it required Meg and Madeline and sometimes Alexandre to carry him down the stairs. What could be a sharper blow to one's manhood than having two women and a child physically carry him in and out?

Something should have been done. The architect of long ago elbowed his way through my mind and shook a blueprint at me.

"Well," I said, deciding against sitting. "Congratulations to you both."

"It seems life has been good to two old men lately," he said with another chuckle. He struggled to keep his smile but failed and looked away. He cleared his throat and pushed his wheelchair back from the desk. "We both know how things that seem like blessings can be taken away," he said quietly.

"True," I replied. I tapped my fingers on the door frame and attempted to think of a way to excuse myself. In the past I would have merely walked from the room, but I wasn't feeling inclined to leave so abruptly. "Good afternoon, Charles."

"Enjoy your day, Monsieur Kire," Charles replied.

I turned from him and still saw an image of a wooden platform and a ramp replacing the back stairs.


	26. Affection and Challenge

* * *

Before I turned and left the library, I noticed the morning paper sitting on the table. I folded it in half and returned to my room to see how much of my money Madeline had spent last month.

The letter on top of the pile had a return address from Lyon. I hesitated to open it when I saw it was from the Vicomte de Chagny. In the weeks that had followed our encounter I had forgotten him and his request concerning Alexandre that I had promised to consider.

I broke the seal and let out a groan as I skimmed through his brief letter.

_Monsieur Kire,_

_I do hope you are well and that you have given my offer much thought. Once you have an answer for me, please send it to the address below. _

_Respectfully,_

_R. de Chagny _

I folded his letter and returned it to the envelope. After lunch I would send him a reply. If he wanted to give Alex his inheritance I would not protest, but my son would not take his name.

My eyes were sore from a morning spent writing two operas due within weeks of one another. I glanced at the paper and determined the horrors of the world could wait until later.

I decided to remove my false hair and take a cat nap and attempt to sleep off the sugar that made me tremble. Living with a cat had shown me that a cat nap was anything but a nap. It was an all-day event. How in the hell can an animal that does nothing for hours need to sleep so long, I wondered as I lay down.

I knew I couldn't shut my eyes for long. Julia expected us over within the hour. At the most I had a half-hour to relax a bit and wait for the fit I had sent myself into to pass.

The cat, of course, joined me and found the most comfortable place on a double bed was my neck. Twice I attempted to move her toward my feet or by my side but she mewed at me in protest and curled up again, swatting me in the face with her tail.

My mind was wrapped around Julia as I lay on my side and stared at the wall. The amount of sugar I had just consumed with my lemonade prevented my parched eyes from closing and my rising anxiety worsened my state of mind. I didn't want her brother coming to Paris.

What a sight I would be at the dining room table—a trembling, red-eyed wretch fueled by my nerves and a bloodstream coursing with lemonade.

With her immaculate timing, Madeline pounded on the door just as the sugar wore off enough for me to doze. Damn that woman and her sixth sense! I swore she lived to irritate me and she was doing a fine job!

I stumbled to the door and jerked it opened. "Good afternoon, Madeline. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" I snapped.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Making a noble attempt," I muttered. "May I help you with something?"

She appeared nonplussed by my words and glanced past me into the darkened room. With a sigh of disgust I moved aside so she could enter. The woman was galling. She pulled up a chair and rifled through my papers.

"Such a mess," she said under her breath. "The rest of the room is spotless but this desk—God help you."

As much as she grated on my nerves I enjoyed Madeline. She was what a mother was supposed to be like—overbearing in an endearing way. God Bless Madeline and her meddling ways, I sardonically thought.

"May I help you with something or do you simply wish to deprive me of sleep?"

She turned her head to the side and faced me, studying me with a pensive look in her eyes. "That's why I came here, Erik. I wanted to ask you about keeping Meg up all night."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Last night in the kitchen," she said, attempting to jar my memory. "You kept her awake to make you dinner."

"What in the hell are you talking about? She was awake when I walked into the kitchen," I shouted, slamming my fist onto the wall. Her accusations infuriated me. Whenever something happened she suspected me first.

"Did you ask her to make dinner?" Madeline questioned.

I exhaled sharply through my nose. "She heated what remained of dinner on the stove. If you mean to ask me if she cooked a seven-course meal in the dead of night—"

"Do not ask her to stay up so late again. If you choose to stay in your room for dinner, I will make your meal."

The woman was giving me a headache.

"She said she was fine," I said slowly, attempting to keep my simmering irritation from boiling over.

"Did she..?"

"Yes, she told me."

Madeline straightened. "Erik, they have tried for many years to keep—". She waved her hand around. "Meg is afraid to try again if she loses this child. I'm begging you—"

"She's…" I didn't want to say the word _pregnant_. It was a strange word, an intimate word that sounded inherently vulgar. When Christine had come to tell me of the child she conceived she spat the word at me as though it were a disease. I looked away from Madeline. "She's…experienced this before?"

"Twice."

My lips parted. Twice. Meg and Charles had expected a child twice before and yet the only youth in the house was Alex.

"They were both very early," Madeline explained as if that would have lessened their heartache and mourning.

"When did this happen?" I stammered.

"That is unimportant. But please, I know you have compassion in you, Erik, please consider—"

"Does she need rest?" I asked as I turned back to face Madeline.

Madeline thought a moment. "She needs—"

I exhaled before Madeline finished. She would suggest that I hire on extra help for the time being. Though I couldn't keep her out of sight I could release her from duties or ratify her usual domestic responsibilities.

"I'll do what needs to be done," Madeline offered.

"You're…."

The word 'old' came to mind. She knew what I was about to say and looked fit to be tied as she rose stiffly, threw back her shoulders and headed toward the door.

"You're too kind," I said in an attempt to save myself though neither of us believed my words. It felt like spitting out cat hairs when I spoke.

"She's my daughter," Madeline said before she left.

"She's…family," I said before Madeline walked away.

She paused at the top of the stair and gaped at me. Without a word, her eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

"See to it that Alex is dressed and at Julia's home by two sharp," I said gruffly.

Her blubbering ended before it began. "Of course," she said before she walked down the stairs.

There was no use staying in the house a moment longer. I dressed, donned my hairpiece, straightened my hair, and glanced in the mirror. For my first lunch with Julia and Lisette I would wear my mask.

I feared I would frighten her if I didn't.

-0-

Julia was in the kitchen when I walked through the back door.

"You're early," she said without turning to face me.

Seeing her at the counter struck me like a match to a puddle of kerosene. It was pure torment to be suddenly engulfed in my amorous thoughts and know there was nothing to be done.

Still, it didn't keep me from at least attempting.

"Tell me, Madame," I said as I approached. "Have we begun courting?"

Before she could turn around, my hand slid around her waist and rested comfortably on her soft belly. She gasped at my sudden touch but leaned back against me.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Tell me," I said against her neck, my nose tickled by strands of her hair. "When does the courtship begin?"

"Today," she said.

The sound of her voice made me ache to be closer to her. My hand held her tighter while my free hand slowly traced a line from her earlobe to her shoulder blade. She softly moaned to my caress, which did nothing to douse the growing flames I felt consuming me from within.

I kissed the side of her neck, flicking my tongue against her flesh. She leaned further back and exhaled hard, turning her face to mine.

"We shouldn't," she said before my mouth closed over hers.

My hand moved from her belly to the small of her back as I pressed her up against the counter. Her hands linked around my neck, lips opening to mine in the most ungodly fusion of ecstasy and frustration. I wanted more than just her lips to mine.

In animalistic wanting I lifted her onto the counter and pulled her legs apart so that I was closer to her. My hands roved along her hips and sides up to her breasts. My thumbs ran across the hardened peaks struggling to be noticed beneath her clothing.

I would not neglect an inch of her flesh. My mouth searched hers as she pried at the mask, freeing me while I attempted to release her as well. I gathered her skirts and found my way beneath the multitude of fabric.

"No," she said against my face, her hands squeezing my upper arms. "Erik, no."

I released the passionate grip I had on her and stepped away, clearing my throat as I stared at the wooden floor. We both sighed in disappointment, which at least made me feel better that I wasn't the only one in need of a decent romp.

When I looked at her for the first time I saw her cheeks were flushed. She shook her head at me and playfully slapped my shoulder.

"Sit down," she said with a chuckle. "And cease your foolery."

"Until after lunch," I said, still grasping at hope.

"Until after we are wed," she corrected.

It sounded like a challenge.

"If we begin our courtship tomorrow…"

"Oh, Erik," she sighed as she turned away from me. "You make this more difficult than it has to be."

"This would not be difficult if there were not absurd rules involved."

"They're not absurd."

She didn't see me smirk as she stood with her back to me. "Ridiculous, then. Inane, if you wish."

"Proper," she corrected. "It's proper."

"It's pure hell."

She faced me for a moment and rolled her eyes. Before she turned I saw her smile. There was hope yet for my cause.

"If I can convince you," I said, reaching out to her. She didn't protest my hand running from her shoulder down to her elbow. "Will you agree?"

"Convince me? What? Are you a snake charmer?"

"If I convince you that we should continue with what we both find pleasing," I whispered. "The courtship continues with a slight…adjustment. And we may court for as long as you wish."

"Well, of course. Why buy the cow when the milk is free?" she said dryly. She pointed her cutting knife at the kitchen table. "Sit if you like. Archie brought a bottle of Leach Whiskey. Would you care to try it?"

"Is there a market they haven't infiltrated yet?"

"Archie said it's quite good," she replied. "Try some."

Whiskey. Who would have ever thought demons existed within a glass bottle?


	27. The Storm Within

_I am at Julia's home waiting for lunch. Whiskey has piqued my interests._

Ghost27

What first struck me of whiskey was its warmth. Its taste was not as pleasing as that of a Dupree wine, but was memorable nonetheless.

"Do you like it?" Julia asked over her shoulder.

I shrugged. "Have _you_ tried it?"

She gave me a sharp look before turning back to her growing pile of food.

"What are you serving for lunch?" I asked before tasting my whiskey apertif again. The initial sharp surge of heat was absent. The libation tasted somewhat sweet to my palate. Not as lemonade or cinnamon rolls, however, but still sweet and warm nonetheless. I had never tasted anything quite like it.

"Paté, blanquette de veau, with mousse chocolat for dessert. Would you like some cheese?"

"No," I said taking another swig. The warmth was traveling down with the whiskey as I refilled my glass. My feelings for Julia could not be pushed aside so easily, especially as she stood with her back to me. From every angle she was irresistible, but while I sat at the table I thought about what it felt like to run my hands down her back and feel her sigh against my neck. I wanted the lunch to be over, the children sent away, and Julia to lead me upstairs.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but I'll wait until Lisette and Alexandre join us."

"Did you eat anything today?"

"No."

"No?"

"It never crossed my mind," I mumbled. "I have two operas due. When I write, I rarely think of food."

"You should eat something." Julia abandoned her place at the counter and walked into the hall. "Lisette? Are you in?"

There was no answer so Julia returned to the kitchen and untied her apron. "Lisette must be next door still. I've run out of cocoa. I hope Madame Trista can spare a cup—I know how you love sweets," she said with a wicked grin.

"It's sweeter if I spread it on you."

Julia raised her brow in warning. "I trust you will be a perfect gentleman at lunch today." She turned again and dipped her finger into a bowl, licking the chocolate off the tip and making it nearly impossible for me to answer.

"Yes, yes, of course," I answered blandly as I finished my glass and poured another.

"If you wish to go to the dining room I'll join you presently. Alex will be here soon, correct?"

"Soon," I said as I drained half my glass in two gulps. The warmth increased and I no longer felt exhausted or apprehensive over my first lunch with Julia and Lisette. Curiously, whiskey had the opposite effect of a glass of sugar and a squirt of lemonade.

Julia continued in silence for a while until all of her vegetables were chopped and scooped into a large iron pot.

"When will we attend the opera?"

"I haven't yet made plans," I mumbled as I stared at the whiskey label depicting a man astride a horse. There wasn't much to it, which seemed ironic considering the two Leaches I had encountered were the most garish, loquacious people—especially the woman.

. "What would you like to see? La Boheme?"

"Archie has invited me to attend Carmen. Hermine received four tickets for a performance at the end of the month."

I nodded as I splashed more whiskey into my glass. Julia's words had become nothing more than sounds filling the room.

"Enjoy," I said at last. "Carmen. Bizet?"

Julia placed the knife on the cutting board. Her movement drew my attention to her again and I half-smiled, feeling languid and rather peaceful. If someone had said I was becoming intoxicated I wouldn't have believed it. Three glasses of whiskey wouldn't have had an effect on my father—but when it did there would have been blood spilled.

"Don't drink the whole bottle in one sitting, Erik."

"I'm not."

"It certainly appears that way," she said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded, unwilling to argue, and pushed the bottle and my half-empty glass aside and stood. It was a pleasant surprise when my legs stayed securely beneath me. Drink did not affect me the way it had affected my father. There had been enough violence in my life without a bottle adding to my admittedly surly disposition. Perhaps somehow I had become immune to the influence of libation.

Julia turned back to her work and left me to leave on my own accord. With the bottle in hand, I trudged silently into the dining room and sat with my hands folded in my lap. There, as if out of nowhere, my thoughts were flooded by images of my father when he was at his worst. I glanced in the wall mirror and took comfort in finding there was still no resemblance between the man I had feared and the image staring back.

There was more than a mask which separated us. He had a square face, with small, blood-shot eyes, and a beard covering features that were always red from drinking. His lips were thick and constantly cracked, sometimes from the winter cold, sometimes from the summer heat, but most often because he caused trouble.

To me he was the devil incarnate. His hand flew like an ax to a tree, chopping me down bit by bit over the twelve years I stayed beneath his roof. During storms that passed through Paris late in the night I saw his face in nightmares, the bloodlust in those small, cruel eyes as he beat me into submission. The tree branches outside the windows drew old memories of his nails scratching my face and neck, the limbs slapping the outside of the house prompting visions of his arms wildly thrashing my body until I was certain he would kill me.

Instead he would remove the mask and force me to stare in the mirror, holding me by the hair. He used my own face to punish me, degrading me by spitting onto my face and telling me that I was little more than a rotting carcass discarded from the slaughterhouse. Then he turned on his wife.

I thought I had finally laid the days of torment of ridicule to rest. The night I found Alex by my old lakeside apartments feelings of old returned much to my chagrin. It was not so easy as to say the words and have it be so. As I sat and turned the bottle around on the table realized that I still hated the terrible man that had sired me. My fear of him was still very much alive even though he was little more than bones beneath the soil.

A ghost, I mused. Who would fear a ghost?

I was no longer alone. A silent sentinel stood in the threshold. Even before I lifted my eyes I knew who I would find.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Kire," Lisette said in her mellifluous voice.

"Mademoiselle Seuratti."

Her hazel eyes brightened when I addressed her. She blushed and looked toward the floor before meeting my eye and giving a curtsy that nearly brought her to her knees.

"Would you care to sit?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I would," she said as she nearly ran to her seat across the table from me and slid into her chair before I could even stand to assist her.

The clock ticked by for thirty-three seconds as we sat in uncomfortable silence, though the discomfort extended only to me. Lisette looked like the perfect angel sitting on a cloud with her dark blond hair braided and a light blue frock with ribbons and lace adorning the hemlines.

"Monsieur Kire?" she said suddenly.

"Yes, Mademoiselle?"

She hesitated for a moment, lips protruding and eyes narrowed. Her eyes widened and she became a river without a dam.

"Which face is that? Because Alex told me you have many faces, not just one like Alex or me or Mother. Oh, but Mother says we all have different faces. See?" She smiled, frowned, and gave a stern expression to demonstrate her many faces. "But Alex said that you have a warm face--your real face--and a white face made of leather—and a black face made of satin."

With the way she spoke I wondered how she and Alexandre ever managed to communicate. They were both quite skilled at incessant rambling.

"This is the white face," I said cautiously.

She nodded. "Did you bring your real face?"

"I—I always have it with me."

"Alex said it's unlike any face he's ever seen before."

My face twitched. It angered me that my own son spoke of me like some sort of horrid delight, a freakish beast he could crow to his friends about.

"Where is your mother?" I asked brusquely.

Julia came through the door the moment I spoke. "Lisette, are you being a nuisance to Monsieur Kire?"

"No," she answered with her head bowed. She glanced at me to defend her.

"She's fine," I answered.

Julia looked me over, her gaze settling with mine once she seemed satisfied. "Alex tore his shirt. Madame Lowry is helping him dress," she explained. "Would you like something…to drink? Water, perhaps?"

I shook my head, suddenly unwilling to speak further. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, my eyes wished to close. I was turning into lead the longer I sat there, a heavy, placid heap precariously balanced on an embroidered dining room chair.

Julia looked uncomfortable. She squeezed her hands into fists and turned away. "Lisette, help me in the kitchen, my dear."

"Yes, Mother," Lisette replied. She smiled at me, her eyes widening a moment in a curious expression. "Alex said perhaps you would show us your real face. Is it as red as this one?"

"Lisette," Julia warned, face stern and arms crossed.

With a wane smile, Lisette disappeared into the kitchen leaving me alone with Julia, who walked over and removed the whiskey bottle from the table.

"My God, Erik how much did you drink? This bottle was full."

I thought a moment. "Absolutely no idea," I answered blankly. I felt my eyelids close and reopen slowly. "Why?"

The concern in Julia's eyes grew. "By the looks of it I would say you've had five glasses."

I shrugged. Five glasses didn't seem like much. It certainly didn't feel like much more than a growing sense of warmth, a placid tide I rather enjoyed. I didn't understand why it made some men violent when I felt strangely at ease.

"I don't think you should have more today. The bottle only has enough left for a glass or two more at the most."

"I'll finish it," I replied.

"No," she said quickly, holding the bottle away from me. "No, five is more than enough."

The tide within me changed.


	28. Everytime You Long to See the Sun

_Feedback for this chapter in particular is greatly appreciated! (shout out to the lurkers!)_

_Erik notes: On an empty stomach I ingested five glasses of whiskey. _

Ghost28

"I will decide when I have had enough," I muttered.

"You may drink as much as you desire in your own home but I will not tolerate this in my house," Julia replied. She turned and leaned through the doorway. "Tell Alexandre to stay put. The two of you must wait over at his house until I retrieve you, is that understood?"

"But Mother—"

"Lisette, right now. Make haste."

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What needs to be done," she replied as she turned to face me. The back door opened and clicked shut as Lisette left the house.

I looked at Julia sharply and saw the contempt in her hazel eyes. She pursed her lips to keep from speaking as she turned away from me.

"Speak," I ordered, pushing back from the table. "We're alone now."

Julia stepped away from me and hid the bottle behind her back. "No, not while you are drunk."

"I am not drunk."

"Shame on you," she snapped. "We are supposed to have lunch with our children in fifteen minutes. How could you do this?"

"You asked me if I wanted it."

"A drink, Erik, not the entire bottle. My God, what is wrong with you? Have you gone absolutely mad?"

"I. Am. Fine," I bit back.

She held up the bottle and shook it. "Impossible. You nearly drank an entire bottle of whiskey."

"It had no effect."

"How often do you drink like this?"

"Call Lisette and Alex over at once. We are eating lunch together."

"Your face is red and your words are slurred. You are not fine and you cannot sit with us," Julia whispered through her teeth. "I will not have you in this state at my table."

"You wish me to leave?"

Julia refused to answer directly. "Lie down for a while. When you are sober we will have dinner together."

I rose from the table and slammed my palms on the surface. "Stop trying to shame me! There is nothing wrong with me!" I shouted, my voice trembling as my anger escalated. "If you did not want me here you should have told me to stay in my own damned house!"

"Erik, I wanted you to come to lunch. Please calm down."

"You do not issue orders!"

"I am not ordering you to do anything. Lower your voice and come with me. You may lie down in the guest room for a while and everything will be fine. There is no need for you to leave."

"No," I growled. "No reason to leave. No reason to be seen by the occupants of the house. Lock me away. Yes, Julia, lock me away from sight."

"Erik, don't do this."

"Why not the cellar?" I asked. I approached her with the stealth of a cat until she stood against the wall. I kept a distance from her, looking her up and down. "I told you about the cellar, did I not? About my dark kingdom, my isle of hell, of endless night. Did I tell you about the rat bites?" I pulled my shirt out from my trousers and revealed my stomach, tracing a thin scar beneath my ribs. "There. Do you see it? A rat bite from my childhood. And there, do you see that?" I asked as I pointed to the right of my navel. "Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head, cheeks sucked in and tears welling in her eyes.

"A cigar burn. It's round, don't you see? A perfect, beautiful circle branded into flesh. Proof that I am not intoxicated, Madame, for if I were drunk I would not speak to you with a civil tongue. Do you know what I would do?"

"Erik, you're a good man. You've had too much to drink but you are a good man. Sit down at the table and I will bring you a glass of water," Julia said calmly. There was no fear to her tone, only a hint of concern.

I ignored her words and smiled darkly, removing the mask and setting it on the table behind me. Crossing my arms, I brashly sat on the edge of the table and studied her, looking over her body and avoiding her eyes.

"If I were drunk I would sit on your legs, pull up your shirt and snuff out my cigar on your stomach. Then I would do it again to your arm, and your back, and the sole of your foot just like my father did when he was a drunken, belligerent bastard."

Julia sniffled, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" I snapped. "I am not intoxicated. I will not hold you down and slap your face. I will not lock you in the cellar and beat you when you escape. Beat you!" I slammed my hand into the table and watched her jump.

"Beat you!" I felt my knuckle split as I punched the table just as my father had punched me in the belly. It didn't matter. For one fleeting moment I wanted to feel as much physical pain as I could tolerate.

"Beat the bloody hell out of you!" The third time I hit the table the feeling abandoned my hand and it angered me. The sharp, wrenching agony inside of me still throbbed, the images of that terrible drunken face so close to mine blinding me with hatred.

"Every damned time you longed to see the sun, Julia! Every time the darkness became the loneliest thing you have ever known, when shadows take the forms of monsters and you cannot bear to sit a moment longer with no one—no one!" I shouted at her. I blinked and felt my eyes burn but it didn't stop me. Nothing would stop me. "There was no one. All of those years there was no one. Why?"

She merely stared at me, her face contorted.

"Have you ever been so desperate that you wanted to feel a hand hit you because it was better than feeling nothing?"

"No," Julia answered. "Please sit down."

"I am sitting," I seethed. "At the table—on the damned table, Julia. I'm here for lunch, Julia. For the first time in my life I am here for lunch and now you turn me away."

She shook her head. "I'm not turning you away," she cried, her lips trembling.

"Everyone turns me away," I whispered, my eyes falling to the floor. "You haven't yet but you will. In time you will."

"Don't say that. You know I care for you."

"You shouldn't," I said.

"Listen to yourself and tell me you are not drunk," Julia said. She crouched down and placed the bottle on the floor, her eyes fixed on mine the entire time. Her first step toward me was cautious, her hand held out until her fingers touched my chest.

"I will help you to bed," she said, her tone even and reassuring. The tears she had shed still lingered on her cheeks but her crying had stopped. "Have some water, sleep this off, and we will have a nice dinner together. The four of us will sit down to dinner just as we intended. Everything will be fine."

"Stop it! Stop treating me like a child! I am not a child!"

Julia's hand snapped away as I screamed at her. She crossed her arms over her stomach and trained her gaze on my knees.

"I am trying very hard to help you," she said evenly. "What do you do when you're at home and you're like this?"

My answer was a long silence as I contemplated staying or leaving. My stomach was starting to churn, my temples throbbing in an unexpected rush. Julia was correct. I needed to sleep, to forget all that had happened—or save my foolishness for later. Clarity, like the first trickle of rain before a storm, made little pin drops into my muddled mind.

"Does Madame Giry assist you?"

"I—I don't," I stammered.

She shook her head, unsure of what I meant. Her eyes were so soft, so filled with good intentions as she encouraged me to continue.

"I'm not like this," I whispered. Oh God, I thought. Oh God, I shouldn't be like this. My eyes flickered up to the wall mirror. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the face, the distorted features blossoming with red, the eyes crimson and glassy, the hairpiece crooked. I glanced down and saw my shirt untucked. It was how I remembered my father; a disheveled, filthy drunk.

Was this how Julia remembered Louis?

I was no longer interested in speaking. Humiliated by all I had said and done, I shot up from my perch on her table and immediately stumbled. My anger escalated as I righted myself and started to walk past Julia. Before I had stomped two steps forward she grabbed my sleeve.

"Calm down," she ordered as she placed her hand against my heaving chest. "I don't want you to return home like this. What would Madame say if she saw you in this state?"

"I want to be alone," I replied miserably.

"That's not true, Erik. Stay here and rest. If only for an hour, stay here. Please."

I merely meant to pry her fingers away from my shirt but I turned too swiftly and struck her in the jaw with my elbow. The impact stunned her and she stumbled, landing on her knees where she pitched to the side and collapsed with a grunt.

All of my anger vanished when I saw her on the wooden floor, fingers splayed and head down. I had never felt as sober in all of my life as I did when I saw her sprawled out at my feet.

She didn't move. For a long, agonizing moment I was certain I had killed her. Sickness made its ascent from my gut to the back of my throat. If I had bruised her I would hate myself for eternity. If I killed her by my foolish actions…it frightened me to think I could harm her.

"Julia," I whispered.

Her legs stretched out and she lifted her head, carefully avoiding my gaze. Without a word, she reached for the bottle, climbed to her feet, and walked into the kitchen. From the doorway I watched her pour the remaining contents out the back door.

"Tell me why you did this," Julia said quietly. "Why do you drink so much?"

"I don't do this. Ever. I don't. I swear it. Please, you must believe me, Julia. I'm not," I said, finishing the thoughts only in my head. "I can't. I won't ever again." I took a deep breath. "I'd never tasted liquor before."

She tossed the bottle out the door before turning to face me, her expression unreadable. Her hand rose and I thought for certain she would slap me. I wanted her to strike me, to injure me as I had injured her.

"Why did you do this?"

"I thought I was fine. I felt warm. Not angry, not violent, not anything."

"Good? Did you feel good?"

I nodded shamefully. It had felt good until I walked into the dining room.

"And how did it feel when you struck my face?"

Her words forced my eyes away from hers. I glanced at the red mark on her jaw and wanted to sink to the floor and die.

"I would rather be beaten to death than to strike you," I replied with a ragged sigh. "Hit me. If it pleases you, hit me."

"I think that has happened more than enough in your lifetime," Julia said plaintively.

She made my head fall in disgrace as she remained so stoic, so dignified. I attempted to hold back a sob but it escaped past my lips, emotions ripping through my body in a violent, shuddering torrent.

I stood alone in her kitchen feeling much as I had in my youth, stripped of all dignity, of all humanity.

"I didn't hit you intentionally. I swear it."

"I know. You weren't looking at me when you swung your arm back. I know it was an accident."

My mind began to cloud again, disorientation taking the place of lucidity. I looked Julia in the eye and frowned. "I would like to return home now," I said.

Before she could reply I collapsed into the kitchen chair and held my forehead in my palms, barely aware that the warmth against my cheeks was my own tears. She poured me a glass of water while I struggled to compose myself. When I stopped sniffling, Julia pulled out a chair and sat beside me.

Her hand rested in the crook of my elbow, her eyes studying the crack to my knuckle. "Why didn't you tell me that you didn't drink? I would not have offered had I known."

There was no excuse. I shook my head, fearing I would unravel again. I knew the control I held over my emotions teetered on the edge and assumed the whiskey had become my truth serum. Mortified, I drained the glass of water.

"Forgive me for what I said," I muttered under my breath. "I don't want to trouble you with…pettiness."

She rose to her feet and tugged on my hand, drawing me up beside her. In silence she put my arm over her shoulder and led me down the hallway.

"It's been many years since there has been alcohol in this house," she said as she sat me down on the bed and unfastened the buttons of my lawn shirt. "Louis drank. Not heavily, but he never needed an excuse to close his hand into a fist. But you? I have never seen you like this."

"I will never touch it again. And you have my word that I won't ever hit you," I said balefully as she pulled my arms through the shirt sleeves. My head remained down, my eyes fixed on my knees, too ashamed of myself to meet her gaze. "I've never struck Alex. Not ever. It's never even crossed my mind to hurt him. You may ask anyone—Madeline, Meg, Charles, even Alex will tell you I have never beaten or slapped him. Never." My lip trembled and my insides ached. The drink had not yet worn off. I would keep talking until the drink wore off or my voice went hoarse. "Julia, I've harmed many people in my lifetime, but I am not like my father was. I'm not. I swear it to you."

Her finger pressed to my lips while her free hand pushed me gently to the mattress. She stroked the right side of my face with her fingers. The sensation of her hand so warm and soft against my bare skin made me weep softly, pathetically. Her compassion was beyond comprehension.

"Please, listen to me," I begged her.

Julia calmly combed my hair back with her fingers. "Rest. I want to know you, but not like this. Not like this. Not when you reveal yourself through drink. Close your eyes. I'll bring you more water."

Before she left me, I caught her arm. "We're strangers, aren't we?"

She regarded me a moment but reluctantly nodded, clutching my shirt against her chest. "In some ways."

"Too many ways?"

"We will speak when you have had time to rest."

"Julia," I pleaded. "Are we…?"

Her mouth turned down, her hazel eyes darkening. She nodded and left the room.


	29. Recluse Spider

Ghost29

Julia brought me a pitcher of water and a basket of bread, which I consumed alone. She said nothing when she walked into the room and I was far beyond giving an explanation to her when I had no idea what to tell myself. I pretended to sleep while she left what was meant to lessen the effects of my intoxication. It was cowardly and shameful but thus far speaking had done me no favors. I was better off yellow-bellied than adding more insult to my injuries.

There was nothing that could reverse the damage I had done. Fifteen minutes before we were to sit down with our children I had made what felt like the biggest mistake of my life. I had ultimately lost Julia in my foolishness. I had lost everything precious to me by draining a bottle.

Once there was food in my stomach soaking up the whiskey, I fell asleep. Cried myself to sleep was far more accurate despite the lack of tears. Soundless sobs shook the bed, and in a miserable state I lay numb and unaware of anything around me.

I hated myself for inducing this solitude. I wondered if perhaps it was a disease worse than drunkenness. Perhaps I was drunk on my own misery and refused to release what I feared most. An angel, I mused, I was an angel that had fled Heaven in search of Hell. I had found it. I had spent a lifetime paving the road to the gates of Hades.

After a while I was tired of my own thoughts. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or my internal monologue that gave me a headache. Left alone, there was nothing to do save brood over why I was in seclusion again.

I thought about what I had asked her. Were there too many differences between us? She hadn't answered but there was no need. The look in her eyes said all I needed to know. We were in peril. And it was my doing.

My eyes struggled to remain open after I had finished my meager meal. My gaze followed the patterns of light and dark thrown down by the clouds onto the wall and coverlet until my eyes grew heavy and at last there was only darkness.

But there was no rest in my sleep. The dreams I remembered after I awoke were much more vivid than I had experienced in years. Each time my arms or legs tangled in the sheets I felt confined and as a result violently thrashed about, wrenching from side to side to free myself.

The dreams were all the same—all exactly what I didn't wish to see ever again. The subject was a disembodied head with a black mouth and dark pits for eyes, but I knew that gravelly, cruel voice. So often I had heard his harsh tone through the floorboards over my head, slowly stomping down the eight stairs leading to the cellar. Sometimes I would rock in the farthest corner and plead for mercy, though most often I stood and waited for the inevitable.

Always I stared at his face, daring him to meet my gaze. Only once was he brave enough to look me in the eye when he hit me with a horse crop. His arm stopped immediately, as if a barrier were suddenly placed between my bruised, bloodied skeleton and his raised hand.

There was no mercy even in my nightmares.

Twice I woke barely able to stifle my screams. In both instances I rolled to my side, bbbclutched the pillow, and forced myself to keep silent. The third time, my skin prickled with gooseflesh and my back slick with sweat, I sat up and covered my mouth with my hand, fearing the effects of drink and violent dreams would make me sick in bed. As I sat up and waited for the vividness to fade, the last image in my mind of a knife held to my throat lingered.

I had buried that image in the deepest recess of my mind. I had forgotten that my father's hatred had nearly claimed my life. It was a wonder had I lived past the age of ten. Perhaps these years were merely further punishment.

My stomach churned but didn't betray me as I sat upright. Once I ceased gasping for my next breath I heard voices muffled through the closed door.

One voice belonged to Alex. I glanced at the clock on the dresser and saw that it was after four. They sounded very close and I assumed that Julia had moved their quaint party into the parlor.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sighed as the pads of my feet touched the cold, smooth surface. It was a good, sharp sensation that dulled the other feelings within me. Though I sat I felt as if I were moving from side to side. The room danced as well, making me grip the bed sheets with one hand while reaching out for my glass of water. I glanced down and vaguely remembered Julia taking my shirt with her. My mask, I recalled, had been left in the dining room.

"May I ask Father to join us?" Alex pleaded. "Surely he must feel better by now, Madame Seuratti."

"He will wake on his own accord," Julia sternly replied.

"But, Madame, Grand-mere Giry doesn't like it when Father sleeps during the afternoon. She says he causes a racket walking about all night."

"We needn't mention an afternoon nap, Alex. It will only cause undue concern."

"Mother, Monsieur Kire appeared fine before lunch," Lisette chimed in.

I slowly opened the guest room door so that I could hear them with greater ease. My hand was stiff and bruised from my violent outburst. It was the only wound procured on this devastating day that I believed would heal.

"Sometimes illness strikes quite swiftly," Julia said. She was perturbed. Her tone indicating that she was feigning pleasantry. I had known her long enough to know she sounded like she was in no mood to further explain the situation.

"Why?" Alex asked.

"Because your father is old," Julia snapped. "No more questions. It's impolite."

They were silent for a moment. I eased the door open further and shivered as the cool air circulating down the hall touched my bare chest and stomach.

"May I see him?" Alex asked.

"When he wakes."

My son gave a dramatic moan.

"Alex, that is quite enough."

"I wanted Father to come to lunch. I had an experiment to do."

"Later," Julia replied. "Alex, I've been meaning to ask you, does your father often miss dinner with the family?"

He was silent a moment. "Father never attends dinner. He eats in his room."

"Always?"

"Yes. Well, once he ate with us on Christmas but he missed dinner and had dessert."

Julia didn't reply.

"But Grand-mere says Father doesn't like people so he keeps to himself. He's a raccoon."

"Recluse, Alex, and that isn't very nice to say about someone."

Alex gasped. "A spider?"

"I do beg your pardon," Julia stammered.

"A recluse is a spider. Charles taught me that at the beginning of the week. Spiders are fascinating."

"Alex, not so soon after lunch."

"They live alone on their intricate webs, which they make for themselves. When something becomes caught they go out, sting it, and wrap silk around it. Then they—"

"Alex, enough."

"They suck the life out of anything trapped in their web!" Alex shouted, unable to contain himself.

It seemed as though neither Alex nor I could control our tongues.

His words made Lisette shriek and giggle, which caused Julia to scold both of them. I shuddered at the aptness of my son's description. He compared me to a recluse spider, of all things, living in a tangled web of its own making.

"Go, both of you. Return an hour before supper so that you may wash up."

"May we visit Roberta in the jewelry store, Mother? I want to show Alex the ring his father is going to purchase for you."

"Go play," Julia replied.

My heart sank when she made no comment concerning the ring. With each passing second she was slipping further and further away from me.

Agonized by the wrenching deep within my heart, I pressed my forehead to the plaster wall and savored the cool sensation against my throbbing skull. Soothed, my cottony eyes closed again and I exhaled through my mouth. If it was possible to die from heartache, I had mere seconds before life left me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I heard the front door open and close again. The house was eerily silent and I wondered if Julia had left as well.

I was mindless, spineless, gutless…undeserving of her compassion. I glanced around the hall and considered crawling out the guest room window and disappearing from her home.

The longer I sat the more certain I was that the contents of my stomach were fighting my insides. I climbed to my traitorous legs and gripped both hands across my abdomen. My skin felt like ice as I leaned forward, doing my best to breathe through the cold, clammy sensation crawling across my skin.

It had been many years since I had been ill but I suspect no one forgets the agonizing rush prior to what I was about to do. One hand left my stomach and firmly clamped over my mouth as I tore off down the hall and swiftly vomited. It was nothing short of a miracle that I made it to water closet before I fell to my knees.

The violence of it made my head feel as though it would implode. My eyes ached, my throat burned, everything throbbed worse than I thought imaginable. I collapsed on my stomach once there was nothing left inside of me and rested my face against the cool floor.

Something cold and damp touched the back of my neck, followed by a sprinkle of liquid down my spine. I turned my head to the side, my eyes unable to focus on the hand reaching out to wipe my mouth.

"No, Julia," I protested. I didn't want to compound the humiliation of the day by having her wipe my face. She handed me the rag without arguing and I heard her skirts swish away. Her shadow darkened the doorway, reassuring me that she was still there.

"Oh, God," I groaned, feeling something burn my nostrils. I turned my face away so that Julia wouldn't see me. "Or should I be speaking with the devil?"

Julia said nothing. She crouched to her knees, took the cloth again and ran it along my neck and shoulders until the pleasantness of it made me shiver.

When I finally felt ready to lift my head, I saw the concern in Julia's eyes. She rose to her feet, turned away from me, and glanced over her shoulder. "Your shirt is on the bed."

She left me then, a lonely, miserable spider trapped in its own reclusive web.


	30. My Father's Face

_A/N Someone asked which Phantom this is. Gerard Butler probably comes the closest physically, though I imagine the deformity being worse than it was in the movie. I do try to stay away from ALW, however. _

E/N My time of making a fool of myself has to come an end. It is now time to face Julia.

Ghost30

Once I dressed I was unsure of what I should do. My head felt plagued by a thousand invisible nails all being driven in at the same time. Though I had no interest in eating, my belly growled as the emptiness settled in.

Desolation consumed me like a cruel, cold cloak. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and rubbed my elbow. I couldn't think of anything I regretted more in my life than striking Julia's face.

From a young age I had become familiar with the shame associated with being hit in the face. It was the most degrading of acts and my father took no greater pleasure than showing me how much this was so.

I didn't want to be like him. It angered me that I had resurrected even a glimmer of the man I despised. For the past nine years I had found great satisfaction in raising Alexandre. He brought me such joy, such light in days when I knew nothing but darkness. I wondered if I had ever sparked even a heartbeat of love in my mother and father.

When I finally wandered out into the hall I found Julia waiting with her arms crossed and her back to me.

"Would you like me to leave?" I asked quietly.

She didn't answer me. Her body quivered slightly, weight shifting as she leaned against the wall. Being unable to see her face made my heart ache. I couldn't bear to think I might not ever see her face again.

With a disheartened sigh I reached out but stopped before I touched her. My fingers hovered inches above her shoulder, begging to lower and seek acceptance. I nodded though she couldn't see my face and withdrew my hand.

"You frightened me," Julia said quietly. She still didn't turn to face me. Her only movement was her head sinking lower.

I swallowed, my voice disappearing as I stared at her back and thought of how greatly she had suffered within these walls. Whenever I looked at her I wondered how anyone could hurt her. She was soft-spoken and beautiful, undeserving of such cruelty. I glanced down the hall and thought about the nights I had heard her screaming in this house, of the burly silhouette I had seen chasing her slender form through the house. He always caught her. In silent devastation I listened to what Julia referred to as a mere fight. There was as much fight in their altercations as a hawk diving after a sparrow.

Once she had said that she felt safe in her home, despite living alone with her daughter. She had told me one night in bed that she knew I would watch over her home and keep her safe.

What a disappointment I had become to her. What a loathsome, pathetic creature I was to have stooped so low and hurt her so deeply.

"Did you do it on purpose?" she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder. "Did you regret agreeing to lunch? Were you so desperate to evade this that you…did you sabotage our plans?"

I shook my head.

"Then why did you do it?" Julia asked, whipping her body around to face me. Her lips were pursed, eyes narrowed as she stared up at me. "Why in the hell would you drink so much before lunch?"

I couldn't answer her. I couldn't bring my mouth to form the words.

"My God, Erik. For all your intelligence you are certainly the most ignorant man I have ever met," Julia hissed. "What did you think would happen? Nothing? Is that what you expected?"

"I didn't feel anything," I answered, desperately attempting to curb my tone.

"Is that what you wanted? To feel nothing?"

"Yes."

"Then you got what you wanted," she snorted. "As always, without considering anyone else, Erik Kire got what he wanted."

"This is not what I want. This was never what I wanted. Please listen to me."

"There is nothing further I want to hear from you today. You need to return home now," Julia said through her teeth. "You need—" she stopped herself and lightly shook her head. She turned away and took several steps down the hall.

Instead of doing as she instructed I leaned my back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. There was a crack from water damage lingering above my head. The plaster drooped down, bubbling where rainwater collected after a storm and slowly rotted the beams. What was holding the house together was slowly deteriorating.

Julia spun around to face me when I hadn't moved. Her arms were straight at her sides and the most livid look I had ever seen blazed over her hazel eyes. I pushed away from the wall and remained silent knowing there was nothing I could do to stop the torrent she had kept contained.

"I have been patient with you for far too long," she said, her voice low and stern. "I have tolerated your tumultuous moods, your tantrums, and your self-pity but I will not accept what you did today. Do you understand me?"

Before I had the opportunity to nod she stepped closer, finger jutting out at my chest, her eyes narrowing as she glared at me.

"For years I feared the man who lived in this house. I did everything to protect my daughter from him. I did everything—everything—to make Louis happy and he only became more belligerent. I will not place Lisette in that situation ever again. I will not live as I did when I was married to Louis."

"I'm not like him," I replied meekly. The intensity of her stare made it impossible to meet her eye.

"No, you're not. You're worse because I knew Louis. I don't know you." Her voice trembled and I glanced up long enough to see her bite her lower lip. "I thought I knew you but today you showed me how blind I have been."

"I have never done this before and I swear I will never do it again," I promised her. "I've come to you for the past five years and I have never hurt you. Take that into consideration before you compare me to him."

"You've never hurt me physically," she said under her breath.

I stared back at her in utter disbelief. Rage was rekindled briefly as I studied her downcast eyes.

"Physically? I don't hurt you physically but I mistreat you in other ways?" I continued to stare at her and hoped she would look me in the eye. I fought to keep my hand away from my exposed face, to resort to further cowardice. She made me ashamed of myself, of the struggle I had eventually lost. She knew it as well as I did. I didn't deserve her in my life.

"I didn't say that."

"Not outright."

"You have no right to accuse me of anything," she snapped. "I kept your son and my daughter from watching you make an ass out of yourself this afternoon. How do you think Alex would have felt seeing you as a rambling, red-faced fool?"

My voice dropped when I spoke, as I feared asking a question I wasn't sure I wanted to have answered. "Do you think I treat you worse than Louis did all those years?"

Julia folded her arms across her chest. She shook her head so slightly that I barely noticed the gesture. "He hurt me because he was stronger than I was. You do it unintentionally."

She blinked away tears as she looked up at me. "You do it because it prevents anyone from knowing you. It keeps you safe, doesn't it?"

"I would do anything for you. I want to be good to you."

"I know you do," she said, straining to find her voice past her tears. "But you can't. Not yet."

"Julia—"

She shook her head at me. "For now you must leave."

"Lea—leave?"

She turned away from me and started down the hall again. "Your mask is on the kitchen table. Please,Erik, I think you should go."

A chill passed through me, weakening my knees so suddenly that I gripped the wall for support. This was my last chance. I felt it drifting away from me, my life and my mirth slipping through my desperate, ignorant fingers.

"You said we could speak when I was better. Please don't ask me to leave."

She paused at the end of the hall and brought her hands to her face, hiding her tears by turning her back to me. I couldn't see her in such agony and still walk past her. Though I knew she may very well have shrugged my hands away or turned and slapped me it didn't matter. I placed my hands on her shoulders and felt her tense at my unexpected gesture.

"He slammed his fists into that table nearly every night before…" she stopped, body heaving with emotion."I could picture him again each time you rattled the silverware and dishes. All of those nights I had to negotiate for my daughter's safety. I had to beg him to keep his voice down so that she wouldn't hear him. I don't ever want to do that again."

"You never will," I promised. "I wish you never had."

She didn't protest the firm, protective grasp I had on her arms. Slowly, she peeled herself away from the wall and leaned back against me. My embrace was not returned, but her shoulders relaxed and the sobs that had threatened now diminished. I leaned forward and kissed the back of her head.

She turned her face to the side and reached up, grasping my injured hand in hers for a moment. She studied the wound, running her fingertip above my bruised, split knuckles. With a shake of her head she released my hand.

"I can love you, but I can't heal you," she said.

My eyes closed knowing her words had nothing to do with my hand.

Julia pulled away, turning to face me but keeping her distance. "When you looked in the mirror, what did you see?"

"I saw my worst potential." I swallowed hard, dreading the words I was about to speak. "I saw my father's face."


	31. Knowing Love

Gabrina would like to know who nominated Heart for the Phanfic awards since she has no idea and would like to say a huge thank you to the responsible party.

Also, THANK YOU LURKERS! It was such a pleasure to find reviews waiting in my inbox from some unfamiliar names. I love hearing from everyone and I look forward to seeing the same names each time I post like Sue Raven, Ahomelesspirate, HDKingsbury,Leesainthesky, AngelofMusicNumberLady, Andersm, Penkitten, Hermine, Fire, LindaJam, EriksSecretLove, Lyrit, SoCalGirl, Jessica (glomp), Moniator which I think I spelled wrong. Seeing new names and old is such a treat! I am such a sucker for an inbox full of reviews. You all have no idea how much your thoughts influence the story. GoodnessI hope I didn't forget anyone. Brain ceases to function after midnight!

Alright I swear to stay far in the back and not poke my head out for at least another ten chapters. But thanks again for reading and spread the word! If you like my story please tell others to check out Heart and leave a review for me. Even if it's just a little Hello. (I'll write faster if you do!)

Erik would like to say..._Lunch has been Hell! I fully take responsibility for my mistakes and realize that there is a fine line between what I am and what I may be. The last thing I want is to be my father. All of you who were previously disgusted by my behavior have my word that I will never behave like a drunken louse again. _

* * *

Ghost31 

Her eyes filled with tears again but she held her emotions at bay, refusing to pity me over something that was my own damned doing. I half expected her to grow angry with me again and ask me to leave at once but she remained calm. I wasn't sure what to make of it. She had approached Louis on many nights with the same placidity she offered me. However, I didn't want her to use kindness as a charm against me. I wanted her trust. I needed her to have faith in me again.

"Alex was very upset," she commented as we walked into the dining room. "He was looking forward to having lunch with you today. He thought it was a reward for how well he has done in his studies -to spend an hour eating with you. Did you know that?"

I shook my head, knowing that I was the one who would have been blessed with his presence. My company should not have been coveted.

"Why is it you don't you sit down to dinner with the rest of the household?" Julia asked over her shoulder.

"I work on my music while I eat," I answered. I grimaced at the sound of my own pathetic excuse.

The only occasion I ate in the dining room was when the house first became mine. It was dreadful as Meg and Madeline ate in the kitchen while I sat at the dining room table alone.

I wanted them to join me for dinner but I had made arrangements with Madeline and requested that she serve as head of the house. In essence she was only a servant. It was not appropriate for her to share my table.

With five empty seats surrounding me, I felt more alone than I ever had before. These were chairs that would never be filled, places that would never be set. I could sell music that would be enjoyed by thousands of people but I could not find one person to sit with me at supper.

For the first week I suffered the shame of eating alone, but I could no longer face the unfilled room. I gave Madeline permission to eat her meals in the dining room while I took mine in my room. I was still alone but the walls were closer, the space somehow less empty. I had sheets of music as my companion, a violin within reach, and the muffled sound of conversation through the floors. It was enough. All of these years I had sworn it was enough.

"I would think you could put work aside for an hour," Julia said. She glanced at me, her expression stern. "Don't you?"

My mouth twitched but I nodded readily. I was desperate to please her, to show her I would do whatever she asked of me.

Julia picked up my mask up from the table and turned it over in her hands. Her actions me uncomfortable but I said nothing. I relished her company.

"You need to decide something," she said quietly, her hands still wrapped around the leather. She glanced up at me briefly before running her fingers along the jaw line. "Do you want to be this?"

"I want to be with you."

"That's not the question, Erik. You don't need to answer me right this moment but you do need to decide what you want to be."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do."

She sighed in frustration. "We could very well go back to the way things were. We could stay in our separate houses, meet only when the need warrants, and never move forward. There would be no courtship for you to anguish over. It would be nothing more than you watching for a light in my window and the permission to rut. Your life would be rather the same as you have been accustomed."

I shook my head.

"You make things harder than they should be by always assuming the worst. You expect that I will leave you for Archie. You refuse to give Hermine a chance and now, after nine years of sharing a house with the same people, you still won't eat at the table with your family—and they are your family. For God's sake, Erik, when Madame Giry speaks to the neighbors she calls you her son—her shy, artistic son. She praises and defends you when people like the Eerie Sisters cackle about the ghost that lives in the house."

"She—she does?"

"She cares about you, Meg cares about you, your son adores you and, as much as you madden me, I do care a great deal for you. But you're frustrating! Do you realize how terribly daunting it is to show you any affection? You assume that everyone cowers in your presence when it's you who cower in theirs."

She paused and stomped her foot on the floor. "I don't want to scold you like a child but I will not look the other way or coddle you a moment longer. Today cannot be smoothed over. You disappointed your son, left my daughter confused, and deeply hurt my feelings with your asinine actions. I've continued to take care of you but I cannot do this any longer. You know right from wrong. Don't you know when someone loves you?"

Before I could speak her expression changed. The hardened look that had remained in her eyes slowly faded, her bunched up shoulders dropped. Her gaze flickered down to the mask again and she shook her head.

Her voice emerged as a trembling whisper. "You don't, do you? You don't know when someone loves you."

My eyes involuntarily lowered, focusing on my shoes.

"I know that I love you," I said.

Julia smiled wanly and placed one hand against her neck while the other supported her elbow. The expression on her face reminded me of how satisfied Aria looked when I scratched her beneath the chin.

My leaden feet inched forward until I stood close enough to touch her. Her eyes coyly looked away though she leaned toward me, silently allowing me to reach to her. After all that had happened I moved cautiously, my unsteady hand suddenly clammy, my caress awkward and uncertain as I ran my fingers along her cheek.

I was relieved that her jaw didn't bruise where I had accidentally struck her. The skin was faintly red but showed no sign of the color deepening.

"I know I love you," I whispered, studying the sprinkle of freckles along her nose and cheeks. "I know that what I feel for you is love because when I think of you I wonder what you're doing during the day. I look out my window and hope to see you pass by yours. I think about what you would say to me if I came to the back door, or what flowers you would want me to pickfrom Meg's garden."

"She would murder you," Julia said under her breath.

"I would dig up her whole damned garden for you. All I want is for you to be in love with me, Julia. I want you to feel for me thesame things I feel for you. I don't want tolose you.I don't want you to look at me and regret asking me to come to your home. I don't want you to look at me and think I drained away your life."

Through her glassy eyes she managed a smile. "You heard what Alex said, didn't you? You heard what he said about the spider."

I nodded and felt Julia's hands against my arms. She hesitated a moment, her fingers gripping tighter before releasing me. She shook her head and placed my mask behind her on the table.

"I need to start supper," she said as she walked out of the dining room and strolled into the kitchen. I was about to ask her if I could stay when she added, "And you should finish your music."

The distance between us returned just when I thought I was back in her good graces. With my mask in hand I followed her like a puppy, tail carefully tucked between my legs along with everything else I would not be needing for quite some time.

"When may I call again?" I asked, praying in silence that she would indeed agree to see me.

Her eyes remained averted and I feared she would tell me never to return. After all that had happened I honestly couldn't blame her.

"I don't know yet. But when I do ask you to join me for dinner there is something I want you to tell me."

"Anything," I answered practically before she finished speaking.

"I want you to tell me what you did in Persia."


	32. The Greatest Friend of All

_Julia and I had a long discussion and while I'm not forgiven completely she has not turned me away._

_Even more lurkers have let themselves be known to me! Your loyalty will be rewarded with a weekend update! Thank you for reading! _

Ghost32

It felt much colder outside than it had when I first arrived at Julia's home. I noticed the bitter whip of wind against my face almost as much as I felt the violent pull within my heart.

Julia wanted to know about Persia. She may as well have driven a dagger through my groin, as I knew if I revealed that time in my life to her, she would never have anything else to do with me.

My stomach was in knots by the time I entered my own kitchen. The smell of lunch still lingered in the air but there was no food in sight and no one around to warm something for me.

The house was quiet, I noticed, which meant Alex and Lisette had most likely gone down the street to play with other children. With hunger gripping my stomach, where the children played was not my initial concern.

Meg was usually in the kitchen, so it surprised me when the area was vacant. Not even Bessie came to the door to greet me. I suspected she was with the children or Meg decided to go for a walk and took the dog with her. Madeline believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bessie would protect Meg while she was out for a stroll. I didn't argue with her, but I was fairly certain that if someone with ill intentions approached Meg with a beef bone in hand she would be abandoned within seconds. If Madeline saw how Bessie reacted to the cat she could also add kitten to the list of charms that would ward off the canine.

Brow furrowed, I stepped into the hall still expecting to see Meg or hear Charles in the library. He had a tendency to read aloud, which made him easy to find.

My search was fruitless. It appeared that everyone had left for the afternoon, leaving me alone with a heavy mind. Despite my intentions to spend the rest of the afternoon with my music, the last thing I had wanted to come home to was an empty house.

The stillness made me anxious. I had spent too many days and nights of my life in exile to feel comfortable alone in the house. I froze in the hall and swallowed hard, listening intently for something…anything.

When I lived in the opera house I devised a system for Madeline to follow. On Monday she would find a list of necessities I required. By Friday the goods were to be placed in her apartment. I was adamant about instructing her to leave while I retrieved my clothes, soaps, and dry goods.

From the first time I had met Madeline I gruffly told her that she was not to question me. What I did was my own business and no concern of hers. She listened, repeated my words back to me, and nodded readily. From the moment she first walked into Box Five and scared the hell out of me she showed no fear. She merely asked who I was and what I wanted. With every attempt I made at forcing her to leave me be she persisted until I knew I would either have to trust her or kill her.

She was kind to me. Stern, but kind in a way I had never known. She never stared at the mask, only my eyes and she did so without repulsion or a glint of fear. She stood proud, unafraid of me despite the rumors that flowed rampant through the superstitious theater.

I remembered distinctly telling her that if she did not do precisely what I said she could find employment elsewhere. A smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

"You are not the one who signs my checks, Monsieur Opera Ghost. Perhaps it is you who needs to find employment elsewhere."

She held sway over me from that moment on. It was not Madeline who learned to respect me and tread lightly. I dreaded coming to her apartments because I knew she would be there waiting despite my threats that she should stay away and not meddle in my affairs. Every time I walked into her apartments I balked at her, afraid to show relief in her presence. For years she was the only face I knew, and hers was a good face to know.

I needed her. She was the only contact I had with another person for ten years of my life. Though I never said it to her face she was my only friend. Every time I returned to my own house by the lake there was always something I had not requested tucked into the bag. Sometimes it was merely a pen as she knew I composed music. Other times it was candy or sweets she had made for the ballet dancers. Often there would be a card signed to me. Other than the wax figurine of Christine, her simple notes were the only possessions I still owned.

The first time I found something I hadn't requested I was furious. No one had ever bought me anything, so I took it as a sign of insolence. I stormed up the stairs and demanded to know how much of my money she had spent on a small velvet bag of chocolates.

"It's a gift. I spent my own money," she shrugged.

Once a year she brought me a small honey cake. It was always in late June, in the month we had first encountered one another. Not even my own mother made me cakes or bought me gifts. She didn't even tell me the date of my birth.

Madeline never forgot that one day in June when we met one another in Box Five. It became the most anticipated day of the year for me, and I adopted it as my birthday since it was the only time anyone brought me anything special. I sat alone and sobbed in gratitude, overwhelmed beyond comprehension at Madeline's consideration.

I should have offered to serve her after all the damage I had done and havoc I had created. My own parents had hated and feared me. They had locked me away and told their friends and neighbors I died at birth. Madeline had encouraged me to stay with her for a moment, to sit and chat and drink tea. She knew there was no one else in my life.

She tried her damnedest to persuade me but I refused her with cold formalities and returned to my underground misery. Each time I refused I hated myself for it. Why had I been so stubborn all these years? I didn't need to brood over an answer. I knew it before I thought of the question.

My mood sank further until Aria pranced down the stairs and made a figure eight around my legs. She scolded me for my absence before snagging her razor sharp claws into my pant leg. I lifted her from the floor and allowed her to climb onto my shoulder, listening to her purr as she ran the corner of her mouth against my cheek. With the house empty I removed my mask and left it on the table in the hall, intending to procrastinate and look over monthly expenses, which I assumed would only make my mood plummet further.

When I walked into the study, I was startled to find Madeline sewing. She glanced up when she heard me enter but said nothing as I closed the door behind me. The cat climbed down to explore the room and found a crumpled piece of paper that had eluded the rubbish bin.

"Do you think it is this?" I asked. "This…this…thing that made them hate me from the moment I was born?"

Madeline turned and stared at my hand raised to my face. She regarded me a moment, her head turned to the side, her eyes searching mine.

"Who? Your mother and father?" she questioned.

I gave a curt nod.

Madeline was slow to respond. For a moment I thought she would refuse to answer, as she tucked the needle into her embroidery cloth and proceeded to place the spool of thread into a basket.

"I believe it was more their imperfections than yours," she offered at last.

"I was not a good child," I answered, turning from her to stare at the bookcases. I clenched and unclenched my fists, shifting from one foot to the other. "Always attempting to escape, picking locks, unscrewing the bars on the cellar door."

"From all you have said to me, I think you had good reason to escape." She inhaled and straightened as her eyes swept over my face. She offered a weak smile, which made her appear much older than I remembered. There were few times when I looked Madeline in the eye over the years. When I did it was always a surprise to see she had aged.

"Not to them," I muttered.

"Regardless of your appearance I think you would have attempted to leave. Any child would have taken leave."

"If I had been a better son—"

"You make excuses for them still," Madeline said under her breath. "Foolish excuses for a drunken man and a negligent woman that should never have been allowed the blessing of a child."

"They waited a long time to have a child. They wanted an angel," I said bitterly, thinking of the little figurine in the cradle my mother kept.

"Erik, I doubt anything would have pleased them. Perhaps they thought they had a reason to be disappointed at first, but they had no reason to punish you so severely. Children are not liable for their births."

Madeline knew little of my childhood. What she did know was a result of her own curious nature and incessant need to meddle in things that were none of her concern. She also rose so early in the morning to clean that she had heard me cry out on more than one occasion.

"You've been sleeping better," she commented. "Since you returned home from your stay with Madame Seuratti it seems you don't wake as often at night. She's good for you, Erik, now that you aren't spending only nights in her company."

Madeline adored Julia but greatly disapproved of her being my mistress. The first time she saw me walk through the back door she told me that she would pray for my lecherous soul. That was before Julia and I had consummated our relationship. I had no idea what in the hell Madeline was talking about, as I was unaware that it was a sin to sit with a lady.

"The nightmares have lessened for you, have they not?" Madeline ventured. By the tone of her voice I knew she was greatly concerned for me.

"It's the same," I lied, though I suspected it would become the truth in coming weeks with Persia on my mind.

"Sit," Madeline said, gesturing toward the chair beside her.

"I have music to complete."

She leaned over and tapped the arm of the chair. It was no longer a motherly invitation but a command. I sat down and studied the curtain folds, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze.

"Why do you want to blame yourself?" she asked flatly. "Why do you believe they were good people when they did nothing but harm you?"

I couldn't bring myself to look at her. It was easier to think of Madeline as an old crone who knew nothing of my life. But that was far from the truth. She had a peculiar way of drawing words from me. She was straightforward, treating me like a mother who knows her child has done wrong but doesn't quite know the extent of damage. Through careful manipulation and stern expressions she always loosened my tongue.

"I don't blame myself."

"Then what is it? How could you have been a better child? How could you have earned their love?"

"I could have been more obedient. You don't know what I was like—"

"Of course I do. You were a boy. Boys are trouble."

I looked at her, brow knit. "You have a daughter."

"There was a boy once. Grégoire was his name. Died when he was six. Typhoid fever," she said. She continued to look me in the eye. "He climbed my table, emptied my cabinets, burned my best rugs when he stoked the fire. I thought he was such a little demon always doing as he pleased. He was a terror but I adored him."

Her words made me unexpectedly angry. I exhaled hard and looked away. I had known Madeline for two decades and this was the first I heard of another child. Though I shared little of myself with her, Madeline had always been open. Her revelation was so personal that it made me feel further from her than I truly wanted.

"My son's death angers you?"

Still refusing to look at her, I shook my head. Something deep inside of me throbbed.

"What is it?"

"You never told me."

I felt her relax, sympathizing with me when she was the one who had lost something dear. I couldn't imagine what I would have done if Alex died.

"There was never a proper time to tell you," she replied casually. "And when I first saw you, I didn't want to think about his death."

"Were there others? More children?" I asked.

"I still have a son," she said with a soft smile. "And now I have a wonderful grandson, and Meg will give me another grandchild. I can only pray that her child is not as inquisitive as yours," she teased.

We sat in silence for a while until Aria decided to make an attempt at stealing Madeline's ball of yarn. She handed me the cat and ran her hand over mine.

"You still look miserable, Erik."

"I always look miserable," I muttered.

"What is it?"

I hesitated, pressing the sides of my hands to my lips. It wasn't until I touched my face that I remembered I wasn't wearing a mask before her. She could look at me with indifference. She could look at me the way my mother never could.

"If it wasn't something I did then they hated me because of this," I said as I met her eye.

"And that was not your fault," she said.

"I want a better reason for their loathing."

Madeline shrugged. "Feeble-minded people have feeble-minded reasons."

For a moment I was silent again, my thoughts scattered, unruly like thousands of leaves caught in a gust of autumn wind. The silence between us once again became an elixir to my tongue.

"Do you know they had a little headstone for me in back of the house, somewhere between the well and the killing shed where my father would slaughter chickens? Before I learned to read I knew it had my name on it. I don't remember if my mother told me it was my grave or if I suspected it was where they told their neighbors I was buried. But it was there."

Madeline touched the back of my hand with her fingers, attempting to settle the demon I felt rising in my chest. For over thirty years it had always ached, digging deeper and deeper into my soul as I kept their cruelty to myself. I had never grown angry over the headstone. I accepted it as their right, knowing that each day I survived past birth disappointed them.

"Why did you do it, Madeline?" I asked under my breath. "Why did you help me?"

"Because you needed my help," she replied simply. She moved her hand away and sat back in her chair. "I know you are insatiable, that you need a better reason than the one I gave you but the truth is I don't know why I decided to help you. I'm afraid anyone else would have not. Perhaps that is why God sent me to Box Five."

In those days God did not exist to me. I hadn't thought much of religion until Alexandre came into my home. The first time Alex cooed at me, I knew the power of divine intervention.

"I would think God has better sense than to step into an opera house," I muttered.

Madeline smiled at me. "That may be true." She inched forward and reached for her cane, which I rarely saw her use around the house. "How was your lunch?"

"It could have been better," I said elusively.

She climbed to her feet and leaned heavily on her cane. "I'll start dinner."

"Why can't you stand up straight?" I asked.

"Old bones," she answered. "I'll be fine. Meg and Charles should be returning shortly. If you're still hungry I will bring some cheese and bread up to you once they return."

"I will wait until supper," I replied as I followed her into the hall with the cat bounding behind me. "And tonight I will take dinner at the table."

I waited for her to gasp or gape or possibly faint but she did nothing more than pat me gently on the back. "Your place is always set," she said. "Alex will be quite pleased."

We reached the end of the hall. I glanced up the stairs and then back at Madeline. Her hand remained in the middle of my back as we stopped and prepared to part ways.

"Those cakes," I said, turning my attention back to the stairs. "The honey cakes you made for me in June. I looked forward to it every year. I—I never once had cake…for…for any occasion. And the little gifts. All of it. I should have told you long ago that I appreciated your kindness."

She didn't say anything. I turned to see why she was so silent and was met with the soft thump of her head against my chest as she began to cry. Her reaction left me dumbfounded. I patted her back, afraid to further upset her. The last thing I expected my gratitude to do was upset her.

"Madeline?"

"This is why I tried so hard all those years, Erik," she wept. She cupped the right side of my face, unafraid to touch the wretched flesh covering my face. "This is who I wanted to see."


	33. Not as Good as a Dragon

_Madeline and I had a discussion about her deceased son and my childhood. _

_On a different note…it has been a pleasure seeing so many new faces! Thank you for making yourselves known. Which is not to say Gabrina and I don't appreciate all of the people kind enough to leave reviews after every chapter. _

_We thank you for taking the time to continue with the story. Your feedback is much appreciated and we strive very hard to continue the tale in a timely fashion._

Ghost33

"You're tall," Madeline said before I was halfway up the stairs.

There was something brewing in her mind. I turned and faced her with a bit of reluctance. "Indeed."

"There are some peaches I would like for pie tomorrow," Madeline elaborated as she stood at the bottom and waited for me to follow her into the kitchen. The prospect of pie could have led me before a firing squad and I still would have gone. Peach pie. By God, was there a better pairing of words in this world?

"Fine," I huffed.

She smiled, ignoring my display, and opened a cabinet.

"There, the one in the front," Madeline said as she pointed to the highest shelf. I gazed at the glass jar a moment before turning my attention back to her.

It never ceased to amaze me how items such as glass canning jars found such high places to reside, far from the reach of those who would eventually need them. There was not a doubt in my mind that Madeline or Meg had placed the jar on the shelf. I wondered how they had put it in the cabinet yet could never retrieve it when they wanted to use it. Had there been string beans staring back at me I would have questioned Madeline, but a snide remark jeopardized my consumption of a flaky-crusted, golden brown, sprinkled with sugar peach pie.

"That reminds me," Madeline said as I handed her the jar. She placed the jar on the kitchen table and turned to face me, her eyes immediately drawn to my collar, which she couldn't help but smooth. "Do you realize your shirt is buttoned incorrectly?"

I glanced down at a small bulge in the fabric where I had missed a button.

"Honestly, I wish you would marry her and end this nonsense," Madeline said under her breath. She started to reach for my shirt and I, knowing she was about to button it correctly, pulled back.

"Thank you, Madame, I will take it from here. What were you reminded of?"

She turned away while I made myself presentable. "I found someone to replace Meg in the kitchen until after the baby is born."

So this was why she was making pie. There was no firing squad, just a lone gunman waiting in ambush.

Before I could speak Madeline continued. "Her name is Ruby Dubois."

"Dubois?" I questioned, thinking there was a cellist of the same name.

"Yes, a distant cousin of the pianist Jean Marcus Dubois." She turned around and handed me the jar.

"Pianist. That's right." It took me three tries before I could open the jar. When I began to reach for a slice of fruit Madeline stopped me and took the jar back.

"She's seventeen years of age and served in the Testan House for the past two years. Monsieur Testan took her in as a favor to Monsieur Dubois after her parents were murdered in London. It's not much of a favor but there are far worse fates she could have suffered."

Madeline expected this would impress me as Luc Testan was a wealthy socialite. He was a manager for a new opera house in Munich, though he insisted on doing business through correspondence. He made his money in textiles and decided to stay firmly put in Paris.

The man absolutely hated my last two symphonies. With a relative who played piano and a mother who dabbled in a singing career, Luc Testan thought he knew everything about music. When he first purchased his little opera house in Germany someone asked him if he would consider work by Erik Kire, the famed and mysterious French composer. His response was galling.

"If I wanted to turn my stage into a barnyard, yes, I would be more than happy to invite Monsieur Kire's work into my theater."

What in the hell did that mean? Stupid old fool should have kept his nose buried in textile trade rather than thinking of himself as musically superior. In my career there were hundreds of shining, brilliant reviews but his one comment stood out from the praise, a pile of manure in my rose garden. I hated him.

"Tomorrow I will draw up a list of requirements for additional help," I replied. "When we find someone who meets the criteria I have set forth you may interview them."

"She has her own flat. She would not require lodging," Madeline said. "No children, no husband, no family living in Paris. She has not been late or taken a day from work in the two years she has been with Testan."

"How very nice for Luc Testan that his help is reliable," I said dryly.

Madeline tried a different approach. "She heard one of your symphonies. The viola symphony, I believe."

I raised a brow, curiosity piqued. This girl, being related to a musician, had to know more about music than the man she served.

"She thought it was brilliant. She said it was much better than Elgar's Salut d'amor."

"I gather she didn't learn flattery from her current employer?"

Madeline shrugged. "She is bringing strawberry rhubarb tarts on Thursday if you care to meet her."

I paused, considering Madeline's words. I forgot how English and underhanded she was, how her tactics involved a cloak and dagger. She had everything in place for the new girl to come into my home and assume Meg's duties. I should have been furious but I expected as much from Madeline. She kept the household in motion.

"How much money did you offer her for her services?"

A pleasant smile eased onto Madeline's face. "It wouldn't be right for me to speculate about her wages." She wagged her finger at me. "But I will tell you this, Erik, she would be an honest worker and the ideal substitute for Meg."

"What will happen when Meg returns to her duties?"

Madeline shrugged. "My bones are too old and my mind too feeble to continue here forever. Who knows? Perhaps you would like to keep Ruby as permanent help."

"You know my sentiments for Luc Testan. You realize you are playing with fire, Madame?"

"I read his review of _The Fox Pursues_ and I thought it was absolute rubbish."

"My symphony or the review?"

She scoffed. "The review, of course."

"And taking on Mademoiselle Dubois is retribution?"

Madeline didn't reply. "I should start the pie crust."

There had to be something more. I looked Madeline over. "So, what did he say about Meg's dance career?"

"He said the ballet troupe would be better off taking cattle and swine and putting them in tutus! The gall of that man!"

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. It was a roundabout form of thievery to take my worst critic's cook. Either Madeline or this day was going to be the death of me.

"What are you preparing for supper?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Madame Seuratti gave Meg a recipe for pesto sauce. That was all Meg mentioned to me." She paused, realizing it was the dessert menu that interested me more than the meal itself. "Lemon cookies."

Disappointed, I shrugged. Strawberry rhubarb tarts or peach pie sounded more appealing than lemon cookies. There was no time to argue or express my disapproval as the front door rattled open and Bessie bayed, signaling her return home. I heard Alex and Meg speaking and suspected everyone had returned at the same time.

"Mother," Meg called out. "Daniel Handley and Alfred Kite are here to pay a visit."

"Just one moment, Meg," Madeline replied.

Once every few months Charles invited his colleagues over for a discussion on politics, history, and whatever else they could think of over brandy and bourbon. I could hear them talking for hours, sometimes laughing and other times locked in heated arguments. They were well-bred, educated men who had traveled across Europe and Africa with Charles in their younger days, though by the sound of it none of them were leaning toward the grave.

Madeline provided enough of a distraction for me to make my way up to my room again without being noticed. From the window overlooking the porch I watched as the two men lifted Charles in his wheelchair and brought him into the house.

Throughout the ordeal Charles remained stock still, his eyes on the ground, hands clasped in his lap. I hid whenever I left my home but Charles could not disappear. He needed assistance to come and go, constantly depending on his wife and mother-in-law to allow him mobility.

My hands itched, ideas flowing into my mind. Ignoring the ruckus on the main floor I sat at my desk and fervently sketched a most magnificent contraption. I imagined a three-dimensional V, with one side slightly longer than the other so that the stairs in the back garden were still accessible to everyone else in the house but Charles would be able to exit as well. Of course the path was narrow so there would need to be an expansion of flat stones to accommodate the wheelchair. Meg would still have to assist him but he would have a great deal of his dignity left when he departed the house as there would not be a need for two women to carry him to street level.

I had just finished compiling a list of materials that would be needed when Alexandre ran up the stairs and pounded on the door.

"Father, are you well?" he asked before I opened the door.

He burst in and sprang onto the bed with the dog at his heels. Bessie didn't notice the cat sitting on the pillow or I'm sure she never would have sat beside Alex.

"I am well, Alex," I said as I shuffled papers back into place. "Though I believe I owe you an apology."

"An apology?"

"Yes," I said as I turned to face him. "I apologize for not attending lunch. I was looking forward to eating with you."

"With me?" he asked in wide-eyed astonishment.

His enthusiasm made me chuckle. He had no idea how much I valued him. His reaction led me to believe I had not told him how much I loved him nearly enough. "Of course, Alex. That is why I have decided to eat dinner at the table tonight."

"You have?" He kicked the bed frame in excitement.

"Yes, and I would like to sit with you every night."

"Does Grand-mere know?"

"I told her before you returned home."

He was so quick to leap from the bed that I didn't notice he had moved until his arms wrapped around my waist. He hugged me as tightly as he could manage, and I patted his back and rubbed his dark curls of hair.

"Would you like to help me build something?" I asked, feigning stress in my voice as he squeezed the life from me.

"Build something? Yes!" he said as he drew back. "Like a castle?"

"No."

"With a drawbridge, and a moat," he said, oblivious to me telling him no.

"No, not a castle."

"And a parapet, and murder windows and a house for the dragon. There has to be a dragon! A green one that breathes fire and has yellow teeth as tall as—as tall as you, Father! Oh, I want a dragon!"

"Alex!" I yelled to gain his attention. "We cannot build a castle in Paris. It's quite impossible."

"May we have a dragon?"

"We haven't the room for a dragon. You've a cat and a dog and Meg and Charles. There's no need for anything else in the house."

He looked disappointed but only stared up at me. "Awww," he said under his breath.

With a deep breath I informed him that we would build a ramp in the back of the house for Charles to use. Compared to the prospect of a castle it was lackluster and Alex, being an uncouth child, had no qualms about making his disappointment known through a heavy sigh and a miserable frown.

"Perhaps we may build a castle next," I said to lessen the blow. "We must first start small."

"I suppose," he said glumly. He released an exaggerated sigh before he trudged to the door. "May I sit and listen to Monsieur Lowry and his company?"

"If they invite you to do so," I replied. "Or you may walk to the store and see how long it will take for them to deliver our building materials."

Alex decided to place an order for our materials. He explained that once I learned to build he would trust me to construct a castle. His audacity amused me and I sent him on his way, watching him bound down the stairs with the list in hand.

When I turned, Bessie was curled up on the bed and Aria was curled up in between the dog's front and back legs with her head resting on Bessie's front paws.

There was peace in the house. After everything that had happened, the gentle rumble of a purring cat and the snores of a slumbering dog were a welcomed find. How easily they were comforted by one another when only a day ago they had antagonized each other.

With nothing more to distract me, I spent the hours before dinner finishing one of my two operas and thinking about the ulcer Julia was going to give me.

Persia. She wanted to know about Persia. And if that wasn't enough I had no idea when her brother would arrive in Paris. If only I could curl up and wait for the storm to pass. I dreaded the coming days, knowing I would face disaster head-on.


	34. Wanting and Denial

If anyone wants to join in...there's a message board I created with my mainstream novel but there is alos a section to talk about Ghost's Shadow and Heart, so if you have questions, comments or just want to stop by and take a look you are more than welcome to email me for the link. mollymeows at aol dot com.

Ghost34

By dinner time Alex had worked himself into a frenzy. Meg told him to sit still, but by the sound of his shoes stomping on the kitchen floor he insisted on jumping like a kangaroo. My only concern was what Madeline would say at the dinner table, as Alex told her that I did not attend lunch at Julia's home. He told her in great detail that I had mysteriously fallen ill before lunch.

If Madeline thought my afternoon was filled with perverse delights she undoubtedly thought I had quite the jovial time of my life. If only she knew what truly happened…but that was information I had no desire to share. If she assumed my lunch was Julia then so be it. I would have preferred an afternoon spent in bed with her rather than alone with my stomach churning and head pounding.

With nothing else to do, I dressed early for dinner. After much careful consideration I decided I preferred wearing a hairpiece over not wearing anything on my head at all. Over the years I had acquired several and had grown accustomed to wearing one at all times. Alone in my apartments I often covered the mirrors and left the mask off, which made breathing, eating and drinking easier. Charles, Meg, Madeline and Alex all had such thick hair that, even if mine was fake, I felt like more of an equal than without it.

The mask, however, would not be practical. It obstructed my breathing and proved an inconvenience when eating. In my youth it was the only time the mask came off as I was not permitted to be without it regardless of whether I was alone or not.

I could still remember the night I ran away from home. I was terrified of losing it, so I slept with it on, which I had never done before. At night I covered my face with a blanket. Even as an adult I still drew the blanket up to my cheek and covered the terrible side.

But as a child I was not at liberty to be without my mask. To eat at the dinner table would be an unusual privilege I allowed myself. To be without my mask at the table was something I anticipated and feared. Even if they did not say a word I would know by their eyes if they preferred me away in my room.

Once I was dressed I was at a loss as to how to occupy myself. Both the cat and dog had left the room, my music was finished, and someone had taken my newspaper. After I paced the floor several times I glanced out the window toward Julia's home.

The sight made me smile. Julia was in the kitchen. I could see her through the window. It was too early to visit her, I knew. I should have waited until she called me to come to her but after my talk with Madeline I wanted to see Julia again.

My longing gaze ended once I saw Hermine skitter through the kitchen. The Leaches were visiting again. With a sigh I stood a moment longer to see if Archie was there as well, but I didn't see anyone.

Living in the house behind hers felt like punishment. Every primal urge I had was left unfulfilled. The only thing I could do was watch her stand at the cutting board.

She hadn't seemed terribly angry with me when I left, I told myself. Perhaps if I stopped by for a moment she wouldn't mind. I wouldn't stay for dinner, but if I came to tell her I was sorry for what had happened…

I gazed out the window again and this time I didn't see her little weasel friend. Again I waited a while but didn't see Hermine return. Perhaps she had gone home. With the rest of the windows dark I assumed Lisette was either asleep or still out playing.

Julia home alone was tempting. Far too tempting. If she wouldn't allow me to undress her I could at least find some satisfaction in a kiss.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked before I disappeared out the back door.

"I believe I forgot something," I replied. I wasn't a good storyteller when I was face-to-face with someone so I turned my back to her when I spoke.

"Why don't you call on her tomorrow? Dinner will be done in an hour."

"I'll return in a moment."

Meg was silent. She knew I was not telling the truth. I could feel her eyes on the back of my head.

"Twenty minutes. I'll be back in twenty minutes," I said before I shut the door.

I had a feeling she was not fooled.

The back door was unlocked when I tried the doorknob. Perplexed, I opened it cautiously and stepped inside Julia's home.

"Julia?" I called.

"I knew you would be over," Julia said. She sounded like she was in the cellar from the way her voice echoed.

"How?" I asked.

"I saw you in your bedroom window. I had a feeling you would call again," she said.

I followed the sound of her voice until I stood in the cellar. Only a candle illuminated the dank confines. Beyond the heady scent of the dirt behind the walls I smelled onions and potatoes.

"You saw me?" I asked once I found her.

"Of course. You were standing there a good fifteen minutes. I knew you would be over before supper time."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked cautiously.

When she turned she smiled at me before continuing to rummage through a wooden crate. I felt like a magnet was slowly pulling me toward her. Dinner was the least of my concerns. Though famished, the only thing I could think of was pulling out the ribbon holding the back of her dress closed and slowly exploring her body.

"You're silent," she commented. "You must be thinking."

"I wanted to offer you an apology for this afternoon."

"Oh?"

I waited for her to elaborate but she said nothing further. She didn't even turn to face me again. "Will you accept?"

"If I hadn't already forgiven you I would have locked the back door." She laughed to herself. "Well, you aren't completely forgiven, mind you. But you are excused enough where you are allowed in my house again."

When she turned I nodded.

"Would you like to know why?"

"If you would care to elaborate."

"Meg and Charles stopped by this afternoon on their way home from their walk. Meg had the most delightful things to say about you. I don't believe I've ever heard her speak of you before."

I nearly told Julia that this was because I hadn't spoken to Meg before but decided I didn't want to discuss Meg or our relationship.

"I asked her what you drink with dinner and do you know what she told me? Lemonade with a bowl of sugar if it's in season. Or tea with a bowl of sugar."

"I like the taste of sugar."

"Yes, well, she said you rarely take wine. That was comforting."

I nodded uncomfortably. She apparently thought I was not telling her the truth and needed to question another source. Her confession didn't insult me as I would have expected. I was glad for it, mostly because it was a change to have someone inquire about me and be told something good.

"Good. I don't want you to be angry with me."

"And I would rather not be angry with you."

We were both silent for a moment. The look in her eyes showed she knew exactly what I wanted and it had little to do with forgiveness, though I wasn't sure if she found it inviting or repulsive.

Lowering her eyes, Julia walked past me and trotted up the stairs. She looked back when she reached the top and I knew it had become a coy game I could not resist.

I dragged myself up the stairs, thinking the cellar would have been the ideal secluded spot to steal a kiss or two. Instead I found myself back in the kitchen.

"Would you like some?" Julia asked, holding out a mixing bowl. "Lisette and I made a cake in the afternoon. The frosting is very sweet but good. It's cherry flavored."

She held out a spoon, which I took from her hand and placed on the countertop.

"Erik, I thought—"

Once her finger dipped into the creamy red frosting her voice betrayed her. I watched her lips quiver, soundless words forming as I brought her sugar-smeared finger to my lips. Her eyes fluttered shut when I licked the frosting from her fingertip. She released a harsh breath and smiled when I drew her finger past my lips.

"We shouldn't," Julia said at last when her flesh was clean of cake frosting. She fanned herself with her free hand and straightened her hair.

"Where's Lisette?"

"With Hermine and Archie."

"For how long?"

Julia shook her head. "We can't do this."

I dipped my own finger into the frosting and held it out to her. "Would you like to taste?"

Much to my chagrin Julia burst out laughing. She nearly doubled over in her amusement, so I ate my own frosting, which wasn't nearly as tantalizing as I suspected it would have been if she agreed.

"Why is that amusing?" I asked, my irritation growing and my amorous feelings fading. It was as if an hourglass inside of me had been turned over unexpectedly. "There was nothing funny about my offer."

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "It's not amusing. It's just maddening that you are so persistent. After everything that happened today you still come to my home and attempt to bed me. That, my dearest, is commendable though quite presumptuous."

"I never said I came to bed you," I defended myself. "I told you why I came."

"And now that you are forgiven what do you expect? What is this supposed to lead to?" she asked, doing her best to remain firm though her reddened cheeks showed she was toying with me.

My eyelids lowered in a lazy gaze. "Madame, what do you wish it to lead to?"

Julia glanced at the bowl of frosting before she trained her gaze on me once more. She held out her finger again and showed me the little dab of frosting.

"Come here," she beckoned.

I reached for her hand but she pulled away and shook her head. "I knew you would not skip a beat. You are wicked and entirely too willing," she said, hiding her hand behind her back. She laughed and nearly sank to the ground as I tugged gently on her arm. "Erik, listen to me. We cannot go upstairs. It's nearly supper time."

I glanced at the kitchen table. "If you don't want to go upstairs…"

She shrieked with laughter. "Never, you terrible man! Erik, we can't."

"But if there was time you would?"

Julia pursed her lips. "I have far greater self control than you do." She smiled again, a seductive grin that slowly killed me. "However, the frosting looked delicious."

I stared at her a moment, my eyes leaving her face. "What is it that's forbidden?"

Julia placed her hands on her hips and shifted her weight. "You know very well—"

I couldn't stand it a moment longer. I took her around the waist and pulled her to me. I had to kiss her again. If it was my only accomplishment of the day, I had to touch her lips even if it resulted in her slapping me across the face.

She went boneless in my grasp, head falling back, arms loose at her side, and a soft moan leaving her throat. I pressed my lips to hers with such longing that I had to pull away from her in order to deepen the kiss.

Her lips parted slightly and I felt the warmth and wetness of her tongue languidly moving against her open mouth. She was breathing harder and her hands came up until she clung to my back, holding on as though she feared I would let her go.

Slowly she allowed me to explore her mouth, eagerly giving into her desires by touching her tongue to mine. The little sounds she made, the whimpers and sighs, the soft groans and harsh breaths were almost too much to bear. I had her pressed between my body and the counter, her legs parted enough so that my knee rested between hers.

Everything about her felt better than I remembered. The kiss I thought would satisfy me until there was more time only made me hunger more for her.

I had never hated skirts and petticoats and drawers as much as I did in that moment of wanting and denial.


	35. Family Dinner

_Someone asked if I would ever consider opening an animal shelter. Not likely as my home is filled beyond capacity._

_Gabrina would like to say thank-you for almost 400 reviews! How wonderful of you! Thanks! _

_In the last chapter I was making every attempt possible to sway Julia into abandoning all reason and giving in to temptations. I think I may have her…._

Ghost35 

I left her lips momentarily and kissed her cheek, slowly, greedily moving down to her jaw and the curve beneath her ear that I knew was anticipating my unwavering attention. Julia sucked in a breath when I gently nipped her earlobe, my tongue flicking out to taste her sweet flesh. She pressed her hips to mine, fists hard against my spine.

"We should stop," she whispered between kisses, her voice low and welcoming.

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know."

I lifted her onto the countertop and kissed her lips again, an open-mouthed, hungry kiss that crushed her to me in primal desire. We hadn't experienced the pleasures of the flesh in weeks and this was the result: an encounter that could not be denied, passion beyond anything I had ever experienced before.

Julia exhaled sharply when I followed the curve of her body from her hips up to her ribs. My fingers splayed, running high on her soft belly, feeling her inhale and exhale in sharp, desperate breaths. Her knees parted a little wider and I moved the hemline from her knees to the middle of her thighs.

"Before we lose control of ourselves we should stop now."

"You're probably right."

I made one last attempt to sway her by kissing her again but she pushed against my chest. Slowly I stepped back, knowing I couldn't demand that she continue. Even if she had not been forced into pleasing Louis I never would have taken her against her will. I only wanted her if she wanted me as well, and though I knew she was tempted she decided to deny me for now. Her body was her own.

Aching slowly replaced my fervent desire and I ran my hand over the back of my neck. "May I return after dinner?"

"You are not going to abandon this quest, are you?" she asked as she smoothed her skirt into place. She laughed softly and fanned herself with both hands.

"You never said I couldn't tempt you."

"True," she said with a smile. "But I think we should control ourselves—" 

"Allow me into your home after dinner. I swear I will not attempt to make love to you but—" I raised my hand to keep her quiet a moment longer. "But allow me to touch you."

Her eyes narrowed. She was either confused or distrusting. She started to shake her head.

"Just for tonight."

She studied my face for a moment, her eyes settling on mine and slowly removing all hope I had of being with her after dinner.

"If I allow you to come into my home tonight you'll expect the same thing the next night and the night following. After everything that happened this afternoon do you honestly believe I would erase all thought of it and give into temptation?"

It was indeed what I hoped but I couldn't dare tell her that. She sounded as though she were standing on the fine line between civility and rage.

"Have I insulted you?" I asked lightly.

She shook her head and slid down from the counter. "There are too many things we need to discuss. If you came to me tonight things would only become more mangled than they already are." Julia crossed her arms, looking over my attire. "I suppose I should have locked the back door tonight."

My mood lurched further into a pit of boiling anger. I looked away from Julia, grinding my teeth and clenching my fists.

"You regret seeing me?"

"I don't regret seeing you, but perhaps it is too soon for us to see one another."

"Too soon?" I asked. Something deep inside told me I should not continue but I needed to know what she meant.

"In a week or two—"

"A week? You don't wish to see me for another week? Or possibly two weeks? You asked me to give you three weeks to prepare for this courtship and I agreed. But now you ask me to remain distant from you for two more weeks? I want to be with you, not away from you."

She sighed. "I want to be with you as well."

My heart sank into my belly.

"But?"

"I want what is best for both of us and I know you want that as well." She looked me in the eye again and smiled. "I know how you are. You see everything as black and white but sometimes it isn't that easy. There are not always definite answers in life, nor solutions…"

"Such as now?"

She nodded.

"Then what do I have to do to change that?"

"Do you ever listen when I speak to you?" she mumbled.

"I don't want to be away from you for weeks. Today when I returned to my music I kept thinking of you and how I may have lost you for the rest of my life because I acted thoughtlessly. I know it was my fault and I apologized for it but now I don't know what else to do, Julia."

"Then you must trust me. When I wish to see you again I will invite you."

She gave me one small kiss on the cheek, took me by the hand, and led me to the back door.

"I can change," I said. "If you do not give up on me, I know I can change."

"I have faith in you."

Faith or not, I knew it would be weeks before I saw her again.

The kitchen was empty when I walked inside, save for the smell of pesto sauce and lemon cookies, both of which made my stomach turn. I broke one cookie in half and ate it before entering the dining room where everyone was engaged in conversation. The lemon was far stronger than the sugar, so I gave it to Bessie, who had sidled up beside me as soon as I came through the door.

Meg and Alexandre were laughing in the other room.

I froze in the middle of the kitchen and felt my lungs grow heavy. My feet turned to lead. I had rarely come downstairs while they were in the dining room.

I hesitated, my eyes scanning the kitchen as I stood paralyzed. There was a small wood-framed mirror on the far wall that I looked at briefly, unhappy with the image that stared back at me.

Those eyes were frightened, those shoulders bunched up in panic of what lay beyond the threshold. I tugged at my sleeves and forced myself to move. I had nine years to think of this day. Prepared or not, I could not walk away and return to my room. Too much rested on this moment.

"Father has come to dinner!" Alex exclaimed as I entered. "Grand-mere! Madame Lowry! Monsieur Lowry! It's Father!"

His smile was blinding. I couldn't recall ever seeing him so excited about anything in his life, save perhaps when he assumed we would build a castle, moat, and dragon stable.

Madeline gestured for me to join them at the table. I took my seat at the head of the table, which was the only vacant spot. Alexandre sat to my right and Meg and Charles to my left. Madeline sat at the opposite end. She had removed the leaves from the table so that it comfortably sat the five of us.

"Would you like to say grace or shall Charles say it?" Madeline asked.

Her question caught me by surprise. I looked to Charles, who returned a closed-lip smile. The expression on his face told me he was indifferent.

I cleared my throat. "I would assume Charles has far greater experience. Charles?" 

"Of course, sir," he said. He took Meg and Madeline's hands and bowed his head. They formed a chain around the table, as Madeline took Alex's hand and he reached for mine.

"You've eaten something before dinner!" he exclaimed.

I pulled my hand away and immediately wiped frosting from around my fingernail onto the napkin, silently and quite sardonically thanking him for putting so much attention on my chocolate cherry flavored finger.

"Grand-mere! Father!"

"Alexandre, keep your voice down!" Madeline scolded.

Again I reached for his hand and he took it. When I turned to Meg she was trying very hard not to smile but it was impossible. She knew how Alex was. I took her hand, attempting to hide my resistance. Her skin felt warm—which made me realize my own hand must have been like a block of ice to her. I was never cold, but consternation had my stomach in knots and my blood frozen in my veins.

"I apologize," I said under my breath, my eyes fixed on the table setting.

"Everything is fine," she murmured back. Her grasp tightened enough for me to notice, enough to reassure me that I belonged there.

Lost in my own thoughts, I missed most of what Charles had said. I half-expected that I would wake from a dream at any moment to find myself alone again, surrounded by crudely hewn dirt and stone walls, damp darkness, cobwebs, and furniture covered in dust. Alexandre would not exist, Julia would still be with Louis, and my current home would be occupied by a different tenant.

The changes in my life were profound, so much so that it was impossible for me to believe that it was not a dream. It was a terrible feeling that started in the pit of my stomach and slowly grew into a cavernous fear that often left me soaked in sweat and trembling when I woke. Late at night I sometimes crept down the stairs and looked into Alexandre's room just to make certain he was real.

But this was real. I was sitting at the table with a family—a real family I could call my own. For the first time in my life I was included in something phenomenal, yet normal. My childhood prayer had been answered. This was what I had wanted, for my mother and father to allow me at their table. I wanted to be treated as human, not as an animal. Most of my life I felt lower than an animal. The dog my father kept, a hunting spaniel, was allowed to lie at his feet while they ate dinner but I had been forbidden to leave the cellar from the time I was toddling around. I learned to walk at a very young age. I still remembered blindly climbing the stairs and rapping upon the door, begging to be allowed out. Like a horse my spirit was broken. But unlike a horse I was forced into complete solitude for days on end from the time I was trained to use a chamber pot.

I thought I would be alone forever. Alone in the darkness, hands blindly reaching out to feel something, anything in the world I knew existed beyond their cage built of locks and tree switches.

But this existed. It was real and it was mine.

"Erik," Madeline said. I blinked at her and realized that everyone was ready to eat. "Would you like to say anything?"

I hesitated a moment before I nodded. I glanced around the table at Meg, who for once showed no fear, and Charles, who sat with a slight smile and a welcoming look in his eyes. Madeline was at last proud of me for something. When I looked at Alexandre I knew it was the second reason Madeline had to be proud of me. My reason for still living was leaning forward, wide-eyed and grinning at me. All Alexandre wanted was for me to look at him.

How similar we were. We both craved the affection of our parents as if it were food or air to breathe. I looked at him and saw my own needs and knew he would never be denied. My God how I loved him, how I would sacrifice anything for his happiness.

At one table I had a mother, a sister, a brother-in-law and my own son. I had a family. For the first time in nine years I saw them in my home and didn't feel alone.

"Thank you," I said at last, and with that we ate dinner together.


	36. A Father's Regrets

_Since this just came up….physically Julia Seuratti is based off Kate Winslet. Think of her character from Finding Neverland_ _and that's what she looks like to me. Okay, Erik's impatient tonight. _

Q: Do I read much?

A: Of course I do! What sort of dolt do you take me for? I read everything from Mary Shelly to Shakespeare. I am well-learned, fine lady! Hrmph!

Ghost36

Once dinner was over and Meg helped her mother in the kitchen, Alexandre assisted Charles back to his room where he intended to read for a while. His two friends who had visited earlier in the day were writing a book about India and wanted Charles to write the forward, as he was well-known for his stories from nearly every corner of the Earth. Charles entertained everyone around the table with his accounts of youth where he rode Indian elephants and built bridges in Madras. Alexandre was captivated, lingering on every word as though Charles were a book that had come to life.

From my room I often heard laughter coming from the study as Charles entertained his guests. There were nights when I heard Meg laugh so hard she gasped for air. At the table I witnessed first-hand why Alexandre spent time with Charles after his lessons ended for the day.

He was attentive and knowledgeable. He enjoyed sharing his stories of adventure, leaving those around the table to decide what was true and what was embellished. In a way it made no difference. He could have said he traveled to the moon and we would have lingered on his every word.

Charles had traveled more extensively than I had first thought. Each time  
he mentioned a place he traveled I prayed that Alexandre would not ask me if  
I had explored the world in my youth as his teacher had done. Already I was faced with telling Julia of my past, and that in and of itself was heart-wrenching, but if word of my past deeds found a way to Alex I would be devastated. In those days I never expected to touch a woman let alone father a child. My regrets had been my own. Now my regrets belonged to the two most important people in my life.

Once Alex returned to the dining room he plopped down across from me again and looked at me with a slight smile on his face.

"Yes?" I questioned as I sat back and sipped a cup of after-dinner tea.

"I didn't tell Charles about the ramp," he said. His grin widened. We were partners in a brilliant scheme. He was enjoying himself and the idea of a secret conspiracy. Normally he blurted out everything he knew with unabashed delight and candor. Keeping a secret was new to him, and by the look on his face it was slowly killing him.

"Good. But you do realize he will know we are building something once the materials arrive?"

He nodded.

"When will our supplies arrive? Did the shopkeeper say?"

"In a week." He yawned into the crook of his arm. "Father, may we build a drawbridge?"

He still wanted to build a castle. I crossed my arms and ran my thumb along the divot in my chin. "It's impractical," I told him. He blinked at me. "It's unnecessary. We don't need a drawbridge."

"But Monsieur Lowry—"

"Alexandre, I can guarantee you that Charles does not need a drawbridge. A ramp will suffice for now until the unlikely day when the back garden floods and alligators appear." His eyes widened at the thought of the house transformed into a castle and the garden into a moat. "There are no alligators."

He nodded and yawned again.

"Prepare for bed, Alexandre," I told him. I reached across the table and took another lemon cookie from the tin tray Meg had placed in the middle. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm not tired," he said, yawning yet again.

"Apparently," I muttered. He was so stubborn sometimes. He would protest until the moment his head fell forward and rested on the tabletop.

"Father? May I ask you something?"

"Of course," I answered, hoping that it had nothing to do with dragons or castles.

"If you come to dinner do you think you will play the violin afterward as you did before?"

His words took me by surprise. He was only learning to walk when we would sit in his room after supper. I would the violin for him while he lay in his crib and cooed, sometimes mesmerized, sometimes bouncing to the rhythm or laughing at the different sounds. The music or a story would eventually lull him to sleep and on many occasions I fell asleep in the chair by his bed or sprawled out on the cold wood floor. When I could force myself to move I returned to my own room but there were many more nights when I would simply watch him as he slept, as the breaths came warm and quick through his tiny open mouth.

Those quiet nights ended when Alex attempted to remove my mask. I wondered if he remembered how I stood abruptly, dropped him from my lap and walked from the room. I was angry with him that night but angrier with myself for how I had treated him. Until that moment I had always encouraged his creativity. My own need for learning had been thought of as unnatural and dangerous. I didn't want Alex to be stifled in any manner. Through him I saw what my life could have been.

But that night he reached for the mask and I pushed him away, literally discarding him from his place at my side. He didn't cry. He didn't make a sound as I stormed from the room and stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do next.

I didn't know how to comfort him as I had been the one to hurt him. In shame I returned to my room and left Meg and Madeline to tend to my son.

For years that moment had haunted me, showing what a failure I was. Had the night also haunted Alex? I wondered.

"If you wish to hear the violin I will play for you."

"Tonight?" he beamed. He attempted to hold back a yawn.

"Tomorrow," I replied.

His brow furrowed as he climbed to his feet. "Father," he said as he walked around the table and threw his arms around my neck. I held him briefly, patting him on the back before he stepped away. "Why did you stop playing after dinner?"

His dark eyes were so innocent, so trusting. He didn't remember that night, or he did but didn't associate it with the termination of our evenings together. I still spent a great deal of time with him but things had changed. He sat at my feet or in a chair beside me, and for the first few nights after the incident I merely sat in the room and waited for him to fall asleep. Though I never told him he could not sit on my knee he understood that there was now a boundary, one that had continuously grown higher as the years passed.

"It was not your fault," I said.

He lingered beside me for a moment, his eyes cast down. "The white face," he said solemnly. "It made the music stop when I touched it."

It terrified me that he acutely remembered what had transpired that night. We never spoke of it. For the past four and a half years I had been attempting to forget it had happened.

But now we faced each other and yet another one of my mistakes stood like a sentinel guarding my mirth. Each turn of the road was a struggle. I looked at Alexandre and wondered if I could escape my wrongdoings and find true happiness.

"The music stopped because of my offenses not yours," I assured him. "You did nothing wrong."

He didn't wholly believe me. I could see the struggle in his eyes and knew he wanted to ask me something but was afraid to voice it. If he remembered how I had dumped him onto the floor and abandoned him in favor of my own room then I was surprised he had the courage to remain before me.

I remembered those feelings of longing, of wanting nothing more than a kind word. It was a simple need, a craving that no child should be forced to seek. Madeline was the first person who offered me something more than a shriek or abhorrent glare. By the time I met her I was already past my twentieth year. Two decades passed before I knew what it felt like to have someone smile at me.

I didn't care if I spoiled him. My life had been neglect, his would be abundance. I motioned him to me and he dragged his feet over, placing his arm over my shoulder.

He hugged me again, sighing against the left side of my face. I knew by the way his back felt against my hands that he was contented and relaxed. It relieved my fears that he would not be frightened of me now that he mentioned what happened years ago.

"You may ask whatever you wish, Alex. Curiosity shall never be punished."

His head remained tucked on my shoulder as he nodded. "When you marry Madame Seuratti will you have to wear the white face?"

I hesitated. "Not always. If I decide to take a walk I would prefer to have it with me but if the general consensus of the house agrees that it is unnecessary then I will not wear it. Is that what you want?"

He nodded. All these years I feared his rejection and yet he didn't want to see was the face I wore before him.

"Father? Is Madame Seuratti still going to be my mother?"

"I'm making my most gallant efforts to sway her in that direction," I chuckled.

He was silent again. I felt him pull away slightly and loosened my grip. There was more on his mind that he had not yet voiced.

"Do you know if…if…" He stopped speaking for a moment and swallowed hard. When he spoke again it was in a voice barely above a whisper. "Do know if she wants a son?"

"Alex, I believe Madame Seuratti cares a great deal for you and would be pleased to have you as her son."

"You weren't arguing about me before lunch?"

My heart sank. He had not heard the conversation but he heard our raised voices. I had never known he was so insecure as to think an argument took place over whether or not Julia wanted him as a son or not.

"There would never be an argument over you, Alex. If Julia, or anyone else for that matter, did not accept you then there would be no further discussion."

"Why were you yelling?"

"It was a disagreement between adults," I answered curtly.

"So she will still marry you?" He asked as he pulled back.

I looked him over and smirked. "Of course, the better question is will I still marry her?"

Alex blushed at my words and kicked the rug with the toes of his shoes. I rose alongside him and guided him into the hall where we stopped at the stairs.

"Good night," I said to him as my hand fell away from his shoulder.

Alex could barely drag himself down the hallway. I watched him zigzag down toward his room and wave once he got to the end of the hall and entered his room. When I turned to the stairs I caught sight of Meg standing in the kitchen. She watched me through the doorway as she dried her cooking pot, a small smile on her face. She said nothing as she turned away and returned to her duties.


	37. Ruby Dubois and Alexandre

_I have continued to bond with Alex. What? You expect a longer summary? Pah!_

Ghost37

By the time it was Thursday I had completely forgotten about Ruby Dubois. Her current employer, the pig that he was, apparently caught word that she was being offered employment elsewhere as her interview was cancelled and rescheduled for the following Tuesday.

To assist in my decision, Meg was conveniently out of the house on Tuesday morning with Charles. Madeline hemmed and hawed, starving me in the process, which was part of her grand scheme. She told me repeatedly that Ruby made the juiciest roast beef she had ever tasted and her cherry tarts were second to none.

The young woman arrived at our door at a quarter to ten, fifteen minutes earlier than she was expected.

"How thoughtful," Madeline said. "She arrives prior to her scheduled time."

I snorted at Madeline and caught her by the arm before she went to the door. "What does she know….of me?"

Madeline's shoulders dropped slightly. "She knows there was a terrible accident."

"What sort of accident?"

"One which you do not like to discuss and which she is not to mention."

"You warned her of the mask?"

Madeline tilted her head to the side. "Ruby has a good memory. She's lived in Paris all her life."

I nodded and swallowed hard. In so many words Madeline told me the mask offered no shelter. It was a brand, a curse of what I once was—and could no longer be.

"Take her to the study."

"The study?"

I nodded. It was the only room in the house I frequented save for my own room and my hidden half of the cellar.

"Fine," Madeline agreed with a sigh.

I returned briefly to my room and stalked across the floor like a nervous cat inside a cage. Hands behind my back and head down, I passed the long, oval mirror several times without meeting my own gaze.

An accident, Madeline said, she blamed my appearance on an accident. I was partially relieved and partially irritated. I hated her explaining me to other people but was glad for the warning.

This poor child. I had made it up the stairs before Madeline allowed Mademoiselle Dubois into my home, giving me the opportunity to watch her stand on the front stairs. She was a petite thing, with two long braids of cornsilk-blonde hair. She wore a simple frock with a frayed overcoat that made her look much older than she was. Judging by her round face and slim stature I guessed she was perhaps not even ten years older than Alex. There was a bag at her side with a loaf of bread sticking out. The food was her saving grace. Had I not been starving I would have sent her away.

"Mademoiselle! How are you?" Madeline asked when she opened the front door.

"Please, Madame, call me Ruby," the girl replied, her French peppered with a distinct Irish accent. She certainly didn't appear Irish and her surname was French. Puzzled, I put my ear to the door and listened.

"I see you have brought samples of your cooking."

"Oh, yes. I would have brought more but I simply couldn't carry it all. I made almond cookies but I didn't have room in my bag. They may have a bit too much sugar in them though."

"Have a seat in the study and I will tell Monsieur Kire you are here."

I met Madeline on the stairs and nodded curtly. "Well?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Will she do?"

Madeline chuckled. "It's your house. You must interview her yourself."

"You know more about the workings of the household than I do."

She nodded. "But you are responsible for her pay. If she is to work here you should be the one to hire her." A sympathetic look graced her face. "The curtains are drawn and a lamp is on the desk. I thought it would suit you better than the sunlight."

"True enough." I still wasn't convinced and Madeline knew it.

"Erik, have you ever seen Monsieur Testan?"

"No," I admitted.

Madeline said nothing more. She turned and walked down the stairs, heading toward the kitchen.

With a deep breath I forced myself to walk down the stairs and cease the torment of waiting for the inevitable. Just before I reached the door, Alexandre bounded in through the front.

He came to a sliding stop in the middle of the foyer and sucked in a deep breath.

"Mmmm." He sniffed the air and stepped forward like a dog on the heels of a fox. "Father, what is that?"

I gestured toward the study door. "There is a young woman I am considering for our new cook."

He smiled and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. "She smells wonderful."

I should have corrected him but at the moment I saw him as a diversion from being alone in the interview. With Alex in the room I could walk into the study, turn my chair away from the desk, and ask her questions without direct eye contact. Alexandre would most likely ask her a hundred questions the moment he saw her.

"Come with me," I said to him. "You may meet Mademoiselle Dubois."

Alexandre walked into the study first. He stopped in the threshold and released a sigh. "Mademoiselle," he whispered. I nudged him in the back to encourage him to move, which he did, scurrying into a seat beside the potential cook.

"Who might you be, young lad?" she asked.

"Alexandre Jean Kire," he said proudly. "This is my father. He said you're going to cook for us today."

I watched them as I seated myself on the opposite side of the desk. Ruby turned and smiled briefly at me before settling her attention on Alexandre. Her eyes were large and attentive and she smiled warmly at the boy. It was obvious that Alex was intrigued by her.

"I've brought some samples of my cooking for you and your father. Would you like to try something I've made?"

Alexandre's mouth dropped open. "Oh, yes! Yes! May I?" he turned to me. "Father, doesn't she smell wonderful?"

Perhaps allowing Alexandre into the room was a mistake. I looked at him sharply and glanced at Mademoiselle Dubois and attempted a smile. "I apologize for his behavior. He's quite excitable."

"Yes," she said with a chuckle. "He's a lovely young man. Why, I would say he has your smile, Monsieur Kire."

"Oooh! We may eat in the study? Father never lets me eat in here. Never!"

"Alex, that is quite enough."

I opened a desk drawer and pulled out a writing tablet and pen. Clearing my throat, I drew a line across the top. "The samples, if you would, Mademoiselle."

"I prefer Ruby, if you don't mind, Monsieur," she said as she leaned over and reached into her bag. Alex started to lean with her but I tapped the desk with my pen and gained his attention. When he met my eye he straightened.

Over the course of an hour Ruby produced tarts, croissants, éclairs, cookies, and a soufflé. She brought small jars of jams and several types of breads.

Once or twice I caught her gaze wandering along my face though she said nothing and her expression never changed. She listened with great interest every time Alex spoke, which I approved of immediately. Alexandre was quite uncouth in his feelings for the young woman and she appeared flattered by his shy smiles and eagerness to impress her.

Everything she presented was not only flavorful but displayed in the most graceful fashion. She had several forks and knives and even two plates for the food to be served on. Each time she pulled another example from the bag I couldn't help but think she was both a traveling kitchen and dining room in one.

"Madame Madeline informed me of your appreciation for desserts," she said once Alexandre and I had tasted everything she brought to the house. She leaned forward and smiled warmly, looking me in the eye when she spoke. "Tomorrow I will bring a five-course meal."

"You're returning?" Alexandre asked.

Ruby giggled and leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead. "What a perfect little man you are, Alexandre Jean Kire."

A glazed look entered Alex's eyes as he sat back and savored her gesture. He was blissfully silent, his fingers touching the spot that she had touched with her lips. I had never seen him so enamored. I had no idea a boy not even nine years of age would feel this way toward the fairer sex.

"When would you be able to start your employment here?" I asked.

Ruby turned her attention back to me. "Monday, if you wish."

I glanced at my piece of paper with a single line drawn across it and pretended to think over her answer. "Monday?" I questioned as I turned the page over and drew another line. "Fine, then. I'll tell Meg to expect you at nine sharp. She will show you the kitchen and explain your duties."

"If she is here now I could help her with lunch, Monsieur Kire. Since I didn't make a main course for you it would be a good example of my other capabilities."

I could have lived out the remainder of my days eating nothing more than tortes, tarts and cakes but I nodded. "Alex will show you to the kitchen."

He jumped from his chair and raced to the door. "Right this way, Mademoiselle," he said with a bow.

She curtsied before taking Alex's arm. "It was a sincere pleasure meeting you, Monsieur Kire. Your work as a composer is magnificent."

If she hadn't won her employment yet, she certainly swayed me with her parting words

-o-

Three weeks passed before our building supplies for the ramp arrived. I thought for certain that Alexandre would simply burst. He wanted to tell Charles what we were doing but didn't want to spoil the surprise. Likewise for Madeline and Meg. All he did was smile when they were near, which only added to their suspicion.

With the plans held down by several rocks on the grass, I gave Alex the all-important duty of keeping nails in order and handing me the hammer. I knew he wanted to do more physical labor, but the first time I gave him the hammer he brandished the damned thing like a cudgel. Fearing for his life and my bones, I gave him much simpler tasks that kept him occupied.

The project took my mind off of Julia, who had visited a handful of times over the two weeks we spent apart. She came to visit Meg most of the time, though once she brought me crêpes. We exchanged pleasantries, kisses lacking in passion, and brief but appropriate embraces.

One afternoon she sat with me in my study. It was the first time in weeks we had the liberty of enjoying each other's company alone.

"You look very nice today," I told her when she sat down and arranged her skirts.

"Thank you, so do you."

I didn't know what else to say to her.

She seemed distant, which increased my worry. There was something she wasn't telling me. My suspicions grew, and I had a feeling her brother was on her mind.

"May we have lunch together?" I asked.

"Yes, I would like that," she answered. "I've begun mending clothes for Archie and two of Charles' friends. I should be done by Monday. Perhaps Tuesday would be suitable?"

Tuesday was five days away. I could do nothing more than nod. "May I see you before then?"

She smiled then, wary of my questioning. "Perhaps you could elaborate before I answer, Erik."

"Would you care to go for a walk tomorrow evening after supper?"

I wanted to take her someplace, to show her how hard I would try to fit into the world for her love. It was not a pleasurable Sunday afternoon walk, a time for men to escort their ladies through the park, but it was a walk nonetheless, a time to be out of the house which I had not done since the incident with the Vicomte.

She considered my words a moment before she nodded. "That would be nice."

"When are you expecting your brother?" I asked.

Julia's eyes widened. "How—how did you know about Max?"

"Were you planning on telling me about your brother?" I countered.

She bristled at my words. "He will be visiting for two weeks and then he will return to his own home in Milan. It's hardly something to shout to the neighbors."

"You told Hermine and Archie."

Julia looked at me sharply. "They know my brother."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was not intentional."

"Like hell it wasn't," I said, my voice raising. "You tell you friends but you say nothing to me. You make me spend weeks away from you and then when I see you…Don't you understand? I don't want to be away from you. I don't want to see you for five minutes in my kitchen while you bring a pan over for Meg or spices to Madeline. I want to see you. I need to see you."

Her eyes were glassy. "I want to see you too."

"Then why are doing this?"

She sighed and looked away. "I don't want you to worry."

"How can I not be worried? I've seen you a total of six times in the last three and a half weeks."

Julia shook her head but it did nothing to settle my nerves. Over and over I could hear Archie's words. There was something about Max that I didn't like. Left unspoken, I knew there was something Julia dreaded as well. If only she would tell me.

She looked away from me and settled her gaze on the floor. There was pain in her eyes coupled with apprehension.

I rose from my chair and took her by the hand, bringing her to her feet. Without a word I put my arms around her and felt her sigh. It was good to hold her again after so long, good to feel as though I protected her if only for the moment.

"He's truculent," she said. "And he had a lot of respect for Louis."

Already I hated him. No man should have respected Louis. Julia's dead husband was lower than a dog, and to me that was an insult to dogs.

She slowly pulled away and walked toward the door. "I will see you tomorrow after supper."

There were a million things I wanted to say to her but we said nothing more. My mouth was dry and my stomach in knots. For the first time in many years I was genuinely troubled by something I didn't understand.


	38. Between Father and Son

_Julia has me concerned over her brother's arrival, but first Alex and I must finish our ramp for Charles. I have a lot to say, so no more wasting time with petty greetings. _

Chapter 38

I would have driven myself mad wondering why Julia didn't tell me about Max but I had Alexandre doing a fine job of racking my brain. Building a ramp was the first time since his early years that Alex and I spent the majority of the day together. Charles, who had nothing else to do, spent his afternoons going for walks with Meg. It was a good chance for her to enjoy the weather before her condition became apparent. Once it was obvious that she was with child she would be forced to remain within the house, which was hopefully still months away.

"Did you know that lightning starts from the ground up?" Alex asked me.

I was just about to nail two boards together when he stopped me. "No," I answered. "No, I did not."

"It does," he replied. He sat cross-legged in the grass with a handful of nails at the ready.

"You have the makings of a scientist," I said as I held a nail between my teeth.

"I want to be a musician and composer like you. And a builder. And a writer. And an adventurer like Charles before his legs stopped working. And then maybe a doctor—or a tumbler such as one in the circus. And an inventor! Like Thomas Edison! Did you know Meanie has met him?"

"No, I didn't."

"I want to be like Edison."

"Just don't make a damned phonograph," I muttered.

He laughed to himself. "I also want to be a pirate."

"You're going to be quite busy by the sound of it." I said. I quickly pounded the nails into the wood and sat back, flexing my hand.

Over the course of two days I had earned enough splinters to last a carpenter a lifetime. Each time I was about to do something Alex either said or did something to distract me.

Had I not enjoyed spending the day with him I would have been highly irritated but he was a good boy, willing to learn and more than ready to offer assistance. At any rate, the wood was stamped with the name "Leach Lumber." I couldn't help but chuckle.

The ramp was coming along slower than it would have had I done the work on my own. For all of his excitement, Alex was constantly standing over me. I allowed him to place the boards as he thought correct, then I moved them and showed him why the angle wasn't quite right. If Alex had his druthers, Charles would have sailed down a ninety degree ramp.

At the end of two weeks our work was finally complete. Thanks to Alex practicing with a saw on several boards before I joined him for the day, I ran out of wood for a handrail. I sent Alex on his way to the general store to order eighteen two-by-fours, which according to my estimates would be enough. Balusters would be added later when I could send Madeline or Meg to the store as Alex wouldn't listen a moment longer. He wanted to show Charles what we had done.

He was immensely proud of himself, having no idea that it was a simple project.

"We really did it?" Alexandre asked when we stepped back to examine the ramp. He stood shirtless at my side having heard me complain about the heat and my own lawn shirt aside.

"It appears so," I replied. "It's a perfect representation of my original plans. You did very well."

Satisfied with the work, I turned to Alex and smiled. It had taken twelve days longer than I had anticipated but Alex was thrilled with the work and proud to have helped.

"A ramp," he said, still awed by the sight. "We built this."

"Yes," I said. "You did well."

"May we do it again? In the front perhaps?"

"I believe we'll need to widen the garden path for Charles first. His wheelchair barely fits through here as it is," I said, recalling how Meg had to carefully maneuver the wheelchair to get Charles out the back door. "Would you care to help me?"

"Yes!" Alex replied. 'Tomorrow!"

"We will need to order stones."

"Oh. Will you write it down? I'll tell Monsieur Rendier that it is urgent!"

"Urgent?" a much higher voice questioned.

We both looked up to see Julia coming through the gate with a tray in hand.

"You look like you both could use some refreshments," she smiled.

"Father! It's Madame Seuratti! Madame Seuratti! Did you see what we built?"

"It's wonderful, Alex. I see you've worked very hard on the ramp," Julia said as she placed the tray on the top stair. She poured two glasses of lemonade and handed one to Alex and one to me after we had donned our shirts again.

She smiled when she looked at me. "You've done a wonderful thing for Charles, very thoughtful. He will be very pleased."

I merely nodded in return. "Will you still walk with me this evening?"

"Of course."

Lisette called to her mother from the other side of the gate. Her voice made me stiffen as I stood in full light without my mask. She still hadn't seen me without it.

"We could see you both working for the last two weeks," Julia said, sensing my panic. "She knows you as Alexandre's father."

Before I could reply Lisette appeared through the gate. She waved to Alex.

"Alex, may you play?" she asked. Her gaze switched to me and she waved. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Kire."

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Seuratti," I replied, finding it difficult to meet her eye.

"How are you?" Lisette asked.

"Fine. How are you?"

She shifted her weight. "Well, I pricked my finger with a sewing needle but it only bled for a moment. Otherwise I'm fine. Oh, but I stubbed my toe on the stairs two days ago. My toe is red like a tomato—I said 'fiddlesticks!' when it happened because it hurt."

"Lisette, thank you, but that is quite enough information," Julia said.

"Mother, he asked!" Lisette cried, bottom lip protruding in a pout.

"Good to see you are still able to play, Mademoiselle," I said.

"Thank you, Monsieur Kire!" She grinned, brushing her hands back and forth along her skirt out of nervous habit.

"Father, may I play with Lisette after we show Monsieur Lowry our ramp?"

"If he excuses you from studies."

"Alex," Lisette continued. "What did Mademoiselle Dubois make for you today?"

Julia stepped a little closer to me as Alex ran off to speak with Lisette. "She's a bit jealous of Alex's new friend."

"The cook?"

Julia nodded. "It's all he ever talks about. He's smitten with her."

"It will pass," I said confidently. I thought a moment and looked to Julia. "It will pass, don't you think?"

"Well, if Archie asks her to marry him…"

"I beg your pardon? He's going to ask her to marry him?" Damn him!

Julia shrugged as Alex bounded back toward us again. "I will see you tonight after supper."

Lisette curtsied from the gate. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Kire," she said brightly. From the corner of my eye I saw her stick her tongue out at Alex.

"What was that about?" I asked Alex.

"Women," he huffed. "Who knows?"

"Pardon me?"

He smiled but said nothing more. It worried me that he seemed to be leaning more toward manhood than boyhood every day.

After Julia and Lisette left, Alex and I walked into the house and sat down at the kitchen table, as our clothes and shoes were dusty and inappropriate for the dining room. Alex leaned far over the table to see what I wrote on the order for stone slabs to widen the pathway in the back. His doting over my penmanship ended the moment he heard the front door open.

"They're back! Oh, Father, may I show Monsieur Lowry right this moment?"

Ruby raced into the kitchen to see why Alexandre was shouting. After telling him that he was going to be her demise she returned to the cellar where she was rearranging bags of flour, sugar, and everything else within the larder. With Madeline's suggestion I intended to offer her greater compensation if she took over some of the cleaning duties as well. Madeline was having an arduous time scrubbing floors. I noticed it was difficult for her to walk up and down the stairs. She didn't find it amusing when I offered to shoot her and put her out of her misery, though she smiled and reminded me that I was no longer a boy of youth myself.

Alex accosted Meg, Madeline and Charles the moment they entered through the front door. Archie was also with them and he helped bring Charles into the house while Alex dragged Meg down the hall.

"What is so exciting it cannot wait a moment?" Meg asked as she pulled the ribbons of her bonnet and hung it on the hook in the hall. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

"Father! May I tell her? Should I show her?"

Meg mouthed 'Is it done?' to me and I nodded. The windows in the kitchen were too high for Charles to see what we were doing but Meg, who was constantly watering plants in the back garden, saw the progress of our work and knew exactly what we were doing. She smiled brightly and allowed Alex to pull her into the kitchen.

"Monsieur Lowry! Where are you?" Alex shouted.

The fuss drew both Ruby and Madeline into the kitchen. Charles, who was accustomed to Meg or Alex assisting him down the halls, was slowly making his way with Archie behind him.

"You seem to have a bit of a parade," Archie said. He snapped his fingers and offered his hand, which I shook before settling my attention on Charles.

"Has something happened?" Charles asked.

Alexandre was about to jump through the ceiling. I nodded to him, telling him he could finally open the back door. He swept his arm out proudly to show Charles what we had done then added with haste that we weren't quite finished yet.

"It's a ramp!" Alex shouted. "It's a ramp for you!"

Charles' jaw dropped open as he stared out the back door. Alex ran to him and pushed him to the threshold so that he had a better look. I could barely keep up with all Alex explained of our work and I was quite certain that Charles also missed most of it. He sat far forward, clutching Meg's hand as he stared out the door in the total disbelief.

"This—this is…for me?" Charles stammered.

"Father designed it and I helped him build it. And no one said anything. Isn't it marvelous? It's a surprise, Monsieur Lowry! You had no idea!" Alex laughed heartily. "Do you like it? Would you like to use it?"

The look in Charles' eyes was indiscernible. He was speechless, his face blank. I had never seen him at a loss for words before and wondered if he was insulted by our creation.

"Uncle Charles?" Alex whispered. He had never called him that before. He referred to Meg as his aunt and Madeline as his grand-mere but I never heard him call Charles his uncle. This project made him feel undoubtedly closer to Charles.

He still didn't say anything as he wheeled himself over the threshold so that the front wheels were on the ramp. One last push from Alex had him outside.

"Do you see it? It's like the letter 'V'," Alex explained.

Charles nodded and reached for his handkerchief. He dabbed at his eyes and his nose and turned away briefly.

I walked outside with Alex and Charles and leaned my back against the rail at the top, the only part that was completely finished. Alex turned to me with a questioning look in his eye. He didn't understand what was happening. I motioned him to my side and he came without question, linking his arm around my back.

"It's wonderful, Alex," Charles said when his voice returned. "It's absolutely wonderful."

Alex beamed proudly, squeezing me tighter. "Did you hear what he said, Father? He said it was absolutely wonderful. Wonderful! And we aren't even finished yet."

Alex bolted back inside and pulled Meg and Ruby inside along with Archie, who evidently had come to see my new cook, to the dining room and made them sit at the table so he could tell them about laying the stones down on the pathway. He didn't look Archie in the eye. I had a feeling Alex had been bitten by the bug of jealousy.

"It looks stable," Madeline said before she went back to the study and left me alone on the top of the ramp with Charles, who was still staring at our contraption.

He inched forward, the wheels of his chair creaking as he angled himself for a better view of the downward path. The wheels were too small, I thought as I watched him. That was why he had so much trouble moving himself. If the wheels were bigger—and if the chair was lighter—he would be able to move himself with greater ease. He would be able to move on his own accord rather than depending on his wife, mother-in-law and student.

"You've spent far too much time and money," Charles said under his breath as he returned inside.

I gazed out the door at the rose bushes and hyacinths along the back fence. The tulips and daffodils were shriveling away, their places slowly being taken by daisies, hostas and little winks of blues and whites from dwarf bearded irises. There was a bench in the back where Meg could sit and Charles could be next to her in the afternoon when trees shaded the garden. Meg had done a fine job of making the garden beautiful and practical as mint, oregano, thyme, and several varieties of peppers and tomatoes grew amongst lavender and chamomile. At last Charles could enjoy the work she had put into it.

"Alexandre enjoyed the project," I replied.

"I understand that, sir. But it's your money," Charles protested.

"True. And I will spend it as I wish."

He was silent again for a moment. "I don't know what to say, Monsieur."

He looked up at me, his eyes glassy still with emotion.

"A writer who doesn't know what to say?" I smirked. "Alex has done well indeed."

"Thank you, Monsieur," Charles said quickly. He twisted in his chair to shake my hand.

"It isn't finished yet. And when it is, I believe I might have a plan for a new wheelchair."

Charles shook his head. "You've done so much already. I couldn't expect you to do more."

"Consider it a bonus for my son's extraordinary education."

With that the conversation ended. Meg returned to the kitchen with Alex following behind her, still yammering on about how he helped build the ramp. Ruby stepped into the kitchen and said she was going to the market. With Archie at her side I had a feeling it would take longer than usual. That idiot was attempting to steal my cook.

"Alex, educate yourself for a few hours," I said to him before he followed Meg and Charles out the back door.

He looked at me, slightly crestfallen, but nodded. His eyes suddenly lit up. "May I play with Lisette?" he asked.

I looked to Charles, who nodded. "But tomorrow your lessons will be longer. You've been avoiding Latin for far too long."

Alex raced out the door. The last I saw of him he was jumping through the space where there was no railing and catapulting through the garden to the gate.

I returned to my room with every intention of sifting through the mail and then drawing a bath. There was dirt beneath my nails, covering my hand up to my forearms. When I glanced in the mirror I saw how filthy both sides of my face were and how disheveled my hair appeared. Even my hair beneath the wig was gritty with debris. It had been a long time since I had worked outdoors. I had forgotten how it felt to labor all day.

For the moment I was too tired to move. I opened several bills while Aria came and sat down on the mail pile and Bessie made certain she flopped down on my foot to keep me at my writing desk.

There was another letter from Raoul de Chagny. I winced when I saw the envelope. He was still expecting my reply as to whether or not I would allow Alex to be claimed as his heir. I struggled for a moment to remember whether or not I had written him a reply or had merely thought about it. If he had waited this long he could wait a week more. I was too sore to trifle with a pen and paper. I glanced at the newspaper and rotated my neck. Along with my tired muscles my eyes felt gravely and heavy. There was time yet to lie down in bed for a while after my bath.

My mind wandered back to Julia as I walked down the stairs and headed to the water closet. I would finally have time with her after tonight's supper. I hadn't realized how much I looked forward to taking her on a walk until we were mere hours away from seeing one another again. Arm and arm, sharing words and good company.

That is, if I could move.


	39. Garish Dinner Guests

8/01/05 Shameless plea for you all to vote for me. I'm not supposed to tell you the name of my story or the pen name I used, if any, but please go to romance junkies dot come where they are having a contest for original romance fiction. They have a contest and one of my non-Phantom stories is currently up for voting.

I am asking that you vote honestly on the integrity of the story. If you find mine and you enjoy it please vote for it. A fellow writer friend of mine is also up with her story this week. Her name is Adria and her story is called Betrayed. Take a look at hers too if you feel so inclined.

On with the story!

* * *

Ghost39 

Ruby spent her first two days eating alone in the kitchen. It bothered me immensely that she ate alone after we finished dinner, so I asked Madeline to inform Ruby that she was requested to dine with the rest of the household at the table.

"But Madam," I heard Ruby whisper incredulously as though she had been asked to perform an act of treason.

"I know it is not what you are accustomed to," Madeline said, her tone shrugging off Ruby's response. "But if you wish to eat in the kitchen then you must tell Monsieur Kire that you deny his request."

"I don't mean to refuse. It's just…you're family, I'm…are you certain this is what Monsieur Kire wants?"

Madeline's voice lowered. She knew I could hear her through the floor and attempted to make it impossible for me to hear. "He is gruff, he keeps to himself, but he is a good man. You will find that if your work is done and the food is good he will not trouble you. In time, perhaps you will find he treats you as family."

"That would certainly be a change from Monsieur Testan," Ruby sighed.

"So I have heard. Is it true he has not left the house in two years?"

"During the time I was in his employ he never once left. But I would not know much since I only saw him a handful of times."

"How long did you work for him?"

"Three years, but it was only during the last three months that he worsened. Everyone thought he was a leper since he stopped leaving the house so abruptly and several of the maids saw wounds on his hands. But ever since he had a fit backstage at the Garnier he has refused to see anyone or be seen."

"It's a shame," Madeline said. I could hear her walk down the hall toward the study. "It's a shame when talent is forced into hiding."

* * *

Dinner was not a quiet event. Shortly before we were to sit down, Alex ran up the stairs and beat my door so hard with his fist that I thought he was kicking it. 

"What is it?" I asked as I opened the door.

He was red-faced, his eyes hardened and jaw set. "Monsieur _Leach_."

I stared at him as he walked stiff-legged into the room and collapsed on the bed. Bessie soon joined him, wagging her tail for a bit of attention, which he denied, preferring to sulk. The dog soon abandoned him and found Aria sleeping at the end of the bed. Once she nipped the cat's head, Bessie was satisfied and sat beside me.

"Would you care to explain?"

"He's coming to dinner," Alex spat.

"Here?"

Alex nodded. "Ruby asked Grand-mere and Grand-mere said she would ask you."

"She hasn't asked me."

His eyes brightened. "Father, don't let him come to dinner! He's coming to see…." He stopped and quickly bowed his head.

He was truly jealous that Archie had Ruby's attention. It was somewhat amusing yet somewhat painful as I thought of how I had felt something similar with Alex's mother.

"Alex, she's a young woman," I said lightly. "Her affections should be claimed by a suitable man."

He grunted. "Suitable."

For a moment I thought he may say something about Archie's false leg but he didn't. He frowned and said, "He claps an awful lot, Father."

I had no idea if there was anything more than innocent walks between Archie and Ruby so I couldn't be certain if Alex was overreacting. Given his age, however, I knew his pining was in vain.

"True, but perhaps Ruby finds it endearing" I said, which was quite possibly the most appalling thing I had ever uttered.

With a listless sigh, Alex climbed to his feet and stood like a limp marionette. "I guess I'll have to settle for Meanie."

"Mademoiselle Leach?" I asked, aghast.

Alex shrugged. "She promised me that when I help her with the phonographs it will be just like we're courting." His eyes brightened at the idea.

He was certainly fickle. "Monsieur Alexandre and Madame Hermine Kire," I teased.

He scoffed at the thought and walked out the door. "I would rather marry Lisette."

My face dropped. I started after him but Madeline appeared in the doorway. "I would like to ask you something if you have a moment to spare."

"Archie is coming to supper."

"With Hermine. Alex told you, I assume?"

I nodded. "Have a bill prepared before he leaves tonight. I intend to charge him for consumption of my food, drink and the time he spends with my help."

"He's a decent man," Madeline said amiably. "Alex was quite fond of him…until he introduced Monsieur Leach to Mademoiselle Dubois."

I grunted.

"Do you want me to tell The Leaches that they should come a different night?"

I shook my head, knowing no matter what they would live up to their names and burrow into my household.

"Did you know Julia's brother is coming to Paris?" Madeline asked as she straightened the coverlet.

I grit my teeth at her question. "It's been mentioned."

"Hmm. Yes," Madeline said. She started to shoo Aria aside but the cat flattened her ears against her skull and hissed, which made Madeline back away. I had never seen Aria hiss at anyone, including Bessie who routinely walked up and gently bit her head.

"This cat belongs outside," Madeline snapped.

I didn't respond about the cat. "Why do you ask about Julia's brother?"

"No reason," she shrugged. She glanced around for something else to do, which I knew was a sign of her meddling. She was hoping to find a way to remain in the room and purge additional information from me.

"Then I will see you at the dinner table," I answered.

She was disappointed but didn't say anything to me directly. I heard her mutter to herself as she walked down the stairs.

I didn't like the way my gut felt at the mention of Julia's brother.

I didn't care for it at all.

* * *

When I walked down to dinner I still had a strange feeling. Alex made his best attempt at being cordial to Archie, which I suspected had something to do with a talk Madeline had with him before Archie and Hermine arrived.

Hermine proved the center of fixation for the night. She walked into the house wearing the biggest, most garish hat I had ever seen. She hit Madeline with ittwice whenshe and her brother walked into the foyer but didn't seem to notice.It looked as though a chunk of garden had landed on her white bonnet, complete with flowing ribbons which she had added herself to make it more dramatic.

The woman needed nothing more to draw attention to herself. Apparently ribbons and bows were a new market for the Leaches to cover. Hermine had extra bows and ribbons sewn onto her dress around the collar, sleeves and hem. She proudly explained to Ruby and Meg that Julia had done most of the work.

"And when Julia said, 'Oh Hermine, don't you think this is enough ribbon?' I said to her, 'Oh, Julie, I have three yards of ribbon and I intend to use all of it.'" Then she snorted when she laughed, which made Alex giggle so hard he had to excuse himself from the table.

The Leaches provided a grand distraction from everything else on my mind. I didn't need to say much at dinner as they provided a show of their own, laughing, snorting and clapping throughout our meal.At the end of the night when Charles and Archie enjoyed brandy I joined them briefly in the parlor, wisely refusing drink.

"When is Julia's brother coming?" I asked Archie, assuming he would know.

He sighed and rubbed at his knee, grimacing as he applied pressure. "Three days I believe."

Three days was not nearly enough time though I couldn't think of what I needed time for. I wanted a plan, I wanted to be prepared but I didn't know what I was expecting.

"You are going for a walk this evening?" Archie asked. He rotated his snuff of brandy while he spoke, which was terribly distracting. From what I had observed Ruby didn't have any annoying habits that compared to Archie's. Of course, no one seemed to compare to Archie.

"Yes, after dinner."

"Nice night," Charles interjected.

I nodded, barely listening. Absently I reached for my pocket watch and checked the time.

It was almost nine. Julia was most likely done with the dishes and preparing Lisette for bed.

"Have a good evening, Monsieur," Charles said. He pushed himself forward and shook my hand while Archie started to stand. I waved him back into his seat and he obliged with a sigh of relief for not needing to put his full weight on his prosthetic.

"Goodnight," I replied as I left the parlor and walked toward the front door. I reached for my hat and walked out the door, hearing Bessie whine behind me. Her tail swished across the tile foyer and I turned and patted her head.

"Another night," I promised before closing the door.


	40. After Dinner

_This chapter contains sexual content. Look for the warning in bold type if this offends you. _

Ghost40

The walk out the front door was always the hardest part of leaving my home. I tipped my hat toward the right side of my face and lowered my eyes, hoping the streets would be quiet tonight.

The last time I had been out of the house was the night I found Aria. That was weeks ago when the air was much cooler and the rain more frequent. When the weather turned warmer I rarely left home. With Julia's help I hoped that would change.

I walked briskly to her front door and tapped lightly as to not disturb Lisette. With my hands in my pockets I stood stock still and waited for her to answer the door. This felt like a special treat, like a reward to be in her company.

"Good evening," Julia said when she opened the door. She took my hands and allowed me to kiss her in front of her house before she led me inside. In the darkness of the house I was surprised to see she didn't appear properly dressed for a walk. I squinted, attempting to see what she wore beneath the shawl draped over her shoulders.

"How was dinner?" Julia asked as I followed her into the foyer.

"Crowded."

"But it went well?"

"Yes, it went well."

She turned and stared at me for a moment, her eyes moving from one side of my face to the other. "Do you normally wear the mask to dinner?" she inquired, her gaze narrowed slightly, creating creases at the outside corners of her eyes.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's impossible to eat while I wear it."

This seemed to intrigue her. "But you sat with everyone at the table?"

"Madeline dimmed the lights," I said, though I knew that everyone present could see what I looked like as we sat in close proximity. Out of courtesy no one stared directly at me, though once or twice I found Ruby looking at me from the corner of her eye or Hermine stealing a glance when she spoke to Archie. Throughout dinner Alex and Charles provided the greatest distraction as Charles entertained with his stories and Alex continually asked questions. Occasionally Archie would interject a fact of his own about the Leaches of the world, but most of the conversation remained on the other side of the table.

Julia grinned. "I knew you and Archie would get along once you knew him better. He and Hermine are very nice people, and Ruby simply adores Archie. I'm so happy for the two of them. Now if only I knew a nice man for Hermine."

A deaf man, I thought. One who adored bows and a woman who wouldn't allow him a word edgewise.

"Which reminds me, Hermine said she was going to wear the dress I helped her make. Did she wear it to dinner?"

"I doubt there are any bows left in France," I replied as we walked down the hall. The only light came from the guest room near the end of the hall.

"Next time she's going to try a Marcel wave. She wants me to try it as well."

"Did I arrive too early?" I questioned as Julia disappeared into the guest room.

"No," Julia answered.

"You're…not dressed for our walk."

"Yes, I know."

My pace slowed as I neared the room. I didn't know what she was doing but I feared that she was only going to allow me to stay for a moment before she retired for the night.

"Where is Lisette?" I asked.

"Sleeping. She went to visit Hermine this afternoon. They've decided to do their hair together and play dress up."

"A grown woman?"

Julia shrugged. "It sounded rather enjoyable. I considered joining them."

I snorted at her. The idea was utterly absurd.

"You know Lisette is quite fond of you. All day long she talked about you."

I grasped the doorframe with both hands and glanced around the room. Though I didn't say anything I wondered what Lisette had said.

Julia came to me and placed her hands over mine. "And the ramp? What did Charles say?"

"He was pleased," I replied. Julia had me distracted as she took my cufflinks off and placed them into my waistcoat pocket.

"Ruby is feeding you quite well," Julia said with a slight smile.

"Yes, she always has something in the…pardon me?"

She couldn't keep a straight face as she patted my belly. "You've been indulging in far too many sweets lately," she teased. Her fingers worked down the buttons. "I noticed when I brought you lemonade."

"Noticed what?"

"You've gained weight," she said flatly.

"No, I haven't."

Julia touched my chin before she untied my cravat. "Yes, you have. Not much, but your cheeks are fuller." She kissed me on the lips and ran her fingers down my face before one hand touched my stomach. "And you've got….padding."

"Now, listen here—"

She grabbed both sides of my opened waistcoat and tugged me into the guest room. "Do you really want to argue over this?" she asked as she started to unbutton my lawn shirt.

Her actions had me perplexed. For weeks she had been quite adamant about how our courtship should run. She was either changing her mind or testing my self-control.

"I thought you agreed to a walk with me."

The warmth of her palms against my chest caught my breath in my throat. She offered everything I wanted with a simple touch and a sly smile.

"We could go for a walk," she said, drawing out her words. "Or we could stay here."

"With everything you just said to me, I rather think I need the walk," I said as she took my hand and led me further into the room.

There was an unfamiliar look in her eyes, a devilish, desirable gaze that made it impossible for me to look away from her. I could smell her perfume, honeysuckle and jasmine,each time I inhaled.

"Kiss me," she said softly as the shawl fell to the floor.

Julia was never assertive. She wasn't timid but she never made demands. I studied her face, searching her eyes for answers. As much as I wanted to be intimate with her I knew there was something unusual about her mannerisms.

"Why have you changed your mind?" I asked.

**(this is your non-pg 13 warning)**

She looked slightly frustrated by my question but preoccupied herself with tugging my shirt off my shoulders. With a deep breath she encouraged me to unlace the back of her gown.

"I saw you working outside today and I realized how much I've missed you," she said. She leaned forward and stood on the tips of her toes to plant a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. "You were standing in the sun. Sweating. Driving nails into the wood and sawing the planks." She kissed me again, this time full on the lips. "Shirt tossed aside, cheeks crimson. I've never seen you so….passionate about labor."

I drew back before she kissed me again and watched as the front of her gown loosened around her breasts. She reached around for the last of the ribbons and smiled as the fabric fell away from her shoulders.

"You realize your house could use a bit of work as well," I said, thinking of the water damage done to the ceiling in the hall.

Julia smiled. "When we first met you were excited about music. You spoke of composing as if it were the greatest thing in the world. But now…now if I ask you how your operas are you shrug it off or grumble that another is due soon."

She was correct. For years music was the only thing I had but now it was becoming more laborious than beloved. It frustrated me that I could compose but not hear my work performed within the opera house. My only work performed in my presence, Don Juan Triumphant, left a sour taste in my mouth. I continued to write because my persona, E.M. Kire, provided an income that kept my funds from rapidly depleting. By continuing to write and sell music I secured Alexandre's future, not because it was still my passion. My affections had gravitated to more tangible desires, like my son and Julia.

"I haven't been inspired," I shrugged. I kissed her back, running my thumbs along her upper arms.

"But today you were different…" she sighed and smiled, her palms rubbed my chest until her touch along my stomach made me shiver."I enjoyed seeing you outside—and without a shirt."

"Though you think I've become fat."

Julia nuzzled my neck. "Come to bed," she whispered in my ear. I felt her hands reach for the front of my trousers, convincing me that I should obey.

We kissed deeply, passionately in the darkened room where I had stayed with Julia months ago. It seemed like an eternity since I had stayed in her home, since I had come to realize how much I truly loved her.

She cupped my face in her hands whileI removed the thin gown from her shoulders and pushed it down past her hips until it fell to the floor. My waistcoat and shirt followed and I heard the buttons clank against the wooden floor as we stepped away, moving closer to the bed.

It was evident that she was more eager for intimacy than I was, as I had come to her home prepared for a walk to the park. The soft moans that accompanied the frantic movements of her fingers pressing into my arms was alluring in a way I had never experienced. Gone was the woman who undressed in the dark and quickly slid beneath the covers. In her place was a passionate creature hungering for affection.

"Tell me why you've changed your mind," I insisted as I removed my shoes and pushed them beneath the bed. Julia gave no answer. She knelt beside me on the bed and sent a trail of butterfly kisses from my cheek down to my neck and shoulder. Once her lips touched my back between my shoulder blades I closed my eyes and savored the hot, languid path she made around to the right side of my face.

I stopped her before she kissed my cheek. Her eyes showed a flicker of disappointment, which was soon swallowed by her intent to make the night memorable. Rather than kiss me she ran her fingers along the marred side of my face, showing me through her caresses that she was not frightened or unwilling to touch me.

Her gesture sent a surge of feelings through me. Sweeping my arm around her waist, I pulled her onto my lap and began unlacing her bodice. Our kisses deepened, her body becoming limp in my arms.

She was panting when I stood and watched her unbutton my trousers. It was more exciting than I expected to disrobe her and have her do the same for me. The feel of her hands brushing low on my belly as she worked her way down the buttons made it difficult to wait patiently. I wanted to pull her into my arms and feel her move with me, the way I had envisioned nearly every night since the last time we had made love.

My arms wrapped around her and I drew her to me, bringing her to her feet again. She turned shy as we stood with nothing between us. Her hands kneaded my shoulders as she timidly kissed me again and I exhaled.

"Oh, God," I murmured.

Julia paused and looked at me, disappointment in her eyes.

"I am so sore. That feels extraordinary," I confessed, melting beneath her touch. I took her hand and kissed it. With a smile I held her tighter until there was no space left between us. At the feel of our melded forms her eyes widened and lips parted, startled by the hardness resting above her hips. "Have a little faith in me, my love. A mere touch to the shoulder is not enough to shorten our night."

Her head tilted forward and rested against my chest as she laughed. "Good. You had me worried."

I sat on the bed and brought her into my arms. "You've nothing to worry about."

Julia shifted until she straddled my legs. Without another word she continued to massage my shoulders with her small, soft hands as I breathed in her sweet scent.

We kissed again and I brushed her long hair over her shoulders so that I could run my lips along the hollow of her neck and the slight dip above her clavicle. My hands ran down her slender back to her hips and I sat back so I could brush my thumbs along the gentle curve of her sides and belly, circling around her navel. She stopped kneading my tight shoulders, her fingers curling into a firm grasp around my forearms. She moved my hands around to her lower back, and I felt her exhale in a soft, hot moan as she lowered onto my lap, pushing me unexpectedly into her.

Our eyes met in the darkness. She had never looked so radiant as she did in that one, controlling moment.

Julia held sway over each move, each scorching second she made love to me. I was suspended in shock and arousal as she groaned against my lips, her forehead rolling against mine.

In all the years I had been with her I had never felt her in such control over our encounters. I was accustomed to her lying below me as I pleasured her. She left me breathless, unable to do anything more than run my hands from her shoulders to her buttocks and kiss her neck and shoulders, knowing if she continued I would not be able to stand it much longer.

Julia placed one hand tightly around my shoulder while she the other along my temple, caressing the good side of my face. I felt her fingers slowly slip beneath the hairpiece and touch my scalp.

Immediately I stopped kissing her and held my breath, feeling our lovemaking pause. Even though she knew my hair was not real, even though she had seen me without it, her actions alarmed me. It was enough of a struggle to have her see and touch my face but I still didn't want to have her see me without my hair.

Julia sensed my discomfort and stopped. She kissed me again and rose up on her knees, leaving us momentarily apart. She smiled sweetly as she gazed into my eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. Her hand moved to my jaw, leaving my hair in place. When her thumb grazed the corner of my mouth I kissed her and whispered that I loved her too.

I guided her down to the bed and placed one arm beneath her, drawing her toward me. I remained on my side and combed her hair with my fingers, entranced by her oval face and how her hazel eyes sparkled even in the dark. She was breathing heavily, little bursts of warm air against my face as we looked into each other's eyes. We kissed gently, lazily enjoying prolonging the moment.

She was not yet satisfied and neither was I. As we kissed she inched closer, urging me to enter her again but I wanted our night to be more than mating. I wanted to touch her, to kiss and caress her and taste her. If this was the only time in our courtship where the rules were tossed to the wind, I would savor each beat of her heart, each soft exhale and the taste of her lips. I wanted to love her.

When I knelt above her, she raised her hips to meet me, momentarily winning and having her way. "No," I chuckled into her hair. "I will give you ease, but not yet, love. Not yet."

Her fingers pressed into my back, knees cradling around my hips. She made it difficult, but I stayed inches above her and kissed her neck, finding the spot behind her ear that made her gasp.

In five years I had discovered many places on her body that gave her great pleasure. There was something satisfying to know that if I ran my tongue along her throat she would feel a surge of ecstasy, and if my fingers ran along the inside of her thigh she would find it delightful and maddening. She enjoyed the sensation of my hands through her hair and would go limp against me if I caressed her ear. Her body was a map to me, with tiny landmarks I could not resist.

We lost track of time in the guest room. When I knew she could not tolerate another moment of my tempting I lowered onto her and stopped, watching her expression as she felt me inside of her. Her eyes opened and she smiled as she stroked the back of my neck.

Together we moved, kissing, touching, and exploring one another. Her breathing increased and I knew the tight coil of pleasure building within her was about to release. She whimpered, her lips breaking away from mine so that I heard her voice her pleasure and felt her ecstasy as she dug her fingers into my shoulders. I looked into her eyes and felt closer to her than I ever had before, sharing in her secret pleasure, in the most vulnerable and intimate of times.

She was beautiful, her forehead damp with sweat, her face glistening by the soft shafts of moonlight. Everything about her was perfect.

And she was mine.

When I could not hold back any longer, I rolled slightly to the side and felt her attempt to stay coupled with me but I held her by the shoulders and withdrew from her. I would not give her a child. I had no desire to father more children in fear of a son or daughter carrying my worst traits.

Spent, Julia rested her head on my chest and slowly ran her fingers through the sparse hair. She kissed me several times and smiled lazily.

"When we're wed," she whispered. "Do you think you will reconsider?"

My eyes closed in the darkness. If there was nothing to fear I would have enjoyed dozens of children, boys and girls running around the house, asking questions and learning music. But the risks were too great. The pain I held alone too heavy a burden to bestow on a child.

"It is a blessing that Alex was not…like me at birth," I answered.

"If something were to happen, if I were to conceive, would you be angry with me?" she asked.

I lifted her chin so that she looked me in the eye. "Do you want another child?"

"Sometimes," she answered.

I ran my thumb along her lips but said nothing, unwilling to further the discussion. The clock in the hall chimed twice. Stroking her hair, I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes again, finding myself too comfortable beneath her to move.


	41. Persian Dreams

_Gabrina notes: If you want to join in the general debauchery and silliness, check out my website for a link to my bulletin board. There will also be a link to the romance junkies contest where you can vote on a bunch of stories, including my mainstream fiction. Thanks!_

_E/N Our walk was abandoned for romance. Many of you were almost as relieved as I was. _

Ghost41

Sleep came with great reluctance. Julia moved her head to the pillow but left her arm draped over my chest. In the darkness I watched her sleep, holding my hand over hers, caressing her fingers with mine.

Once her breathing deepened and I knew she was sound asleep I rolled to my side and kissed her cheek, knowing one day I would kiss her goodnight for the rest of my life. It was a good feeling, a safe feeling to be beside her.

"My little angel," I whispered before I finally closed my eyes.

Though exhausted from a long day, I grappled with Julia's question. She was fourteen years my junior, young and able to bear more children—children that I did not have the desire to father given the uncertainty of the circumstances.

Julia murmured in her sleep and my eyes opened again. We had never discussed extending our family beyond the two children we had. During the five years of our relationship we had been careful to avoid conception, which I took as a mutual agreement that we were satisfied with the families we had.

Each night I came to her, she handed me a small tin from her dresser drawer. The English, who long held such enmity toward the French, referred to them as _French letters_, since the French were always considered wicked and decadentJulia and I never called them anything at all. It was a silent understanding that the contents of the tin were to be used at all times. Now I wasn't sure what she wanted—or what I wanted. She was not herself tonight, for better or worse. Though I enjoyed being with her, I was concerned about our intimacy and hoped she would not regret leaving the rules by the wayside for a night.

It was still dark when I woke to the feeling of suffocation. Dreams had strangled my thoughts, and I awoke thinking I was alone in my own bed, not nestled beside Julia. I rolled away from her, nearly toppling to the floor in my attempt to escape from my nightmare. Had she not grabbed my arm I would have hit my face on the bedside table, but she settled me, shushing me and drawing me back into bed.

My outburst mortified me. It had been several weeks since I had awakened so violently from a nightmare. I eased back into bed and ran my hand over my face, feeling sweat on my brow. My chest rose and fell rapidly as Julia attempted to calm me.

"Forgive me," I whispered, slowly turning my face from hers. I didn't want to see her until I could control myself again, and with the vividness of recollection I feared it would be several moments before I could hold a conversation.

"You're trembling," Julia said gently. She kissed my shoulder tenderly, breathing softly against my bare skin.

My eyes blinked rapidly in the night, attempting to brush away the last of the vision. Most nights I dreamt of the violence and neglect of my childhood but tonight it was something different, something I hadn't seen since the day I stowed away on the Persian Sea, hiding in the bottom of a spice vessel heading to Europe.

"I'm fine," I assured her, although I knew she would not believe me. No one wakes screaming and fighting without something being terribly amiss. My fingers threaded through hers and I held her hand against my chest, forcing a smile as I glanced at her briefly and seeing the worry in her eyes. "It-it-it has passed."

I stuttered when I answered her, which I also hadn't done in many years. Julia sighed and moved closer until her face was near mine and my arm was beneath her. She removed her hand from mine and touched the right side of my face, which made me want to weep in gratitude for her acceptance, for giving me this chance to love her.

Before I realized it a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. I held her close to me, desperately attempting to stop myself from weeping. She said nothing, simply wiped it away and pressed her lips to my left cheek.

"You understand," she said in a voice barely a whisper. "That you can tell me anything, don't you? Anything that troubles you, anything that makes you…wake at night like this."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. She was mistaken. I knew she was mistaken for I heard the hesitation in her voice, the dread that there was something horribly, terribly offensive. Something she would not be able to accept.

"You didn't dream about your father, did you?" she asked.

Julia allowed me to take my time answering her question. She remained close to me, running her fingers down my arm, down my chest in sweeping patterns.

"No," I said at last. "No, I didn't."

When she touched my head I realized for the first time that my hairpiece had come off during my struggle. Instantly I started to sit up, wanting to hide beneath it again.

"Please don't leave," she said as I started to sit upright. "I want you to stay with me until morning. For once, of your own accord, I want you to be here when I wake."

With a nod I relented, eased back into bed and reluctantly allowed Julia to run her hands though my real hair. Once I grew accustomed to her touch I found it soothing, but not soothing enough that I could sleep again.

Our perfect night was ruined, destroyed by my nightmare, by the reemerging of my past bubbling up into my unconsciousness. I knew what had prompted my night terror. The thought of children, of decisions needing to made and regrets.

_Regrets. _

"Regrets?" Julia echoed.

My eyes widened, not realizing I had spoken the word aloud.

Julia pulled away slightly and sat up in bed, bringing the sheet up to cover her chest. On many nights before I left her home I had seen her do this same small gesture of modesty. I attempted to smile again, to make light of her actions but she returned a worrisome stare, one which told me that my attempt to ignore what had happened was a barrier, not a protective shield.

It was inevitable, but still I wanted more time to hide my past from her.

"I'm merely thinking aloud," I said, attempting to push past my loose tongue. "I regret disturbing you."

Each time I spoke I dug a deeper hole. Julia's eyes narrowed enough for me to notice the small crinkle at the bridge of her nose. She turned away from me and sighed, tucking the sheet beneath her arms as she lit the lamp.

"You trust me enough to share a bed with you. Why can't you trust me enough to tell me why you wake almost screaming out," she asked with her back still turned to me.

Her gentle coaxing had turned to anger and I bowed my head.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"No? Then why must you keep secrets from me?" she asked as she rose and took the sheet with her. She would not allow me another glance at her body tonight.

"I'm not trying to keep secrets from you," I said. I wanted to rise but I didn't want her to ask me to leave, knowing it would be weeks before she agreed to see me again.

"Then what are you attempting to do?"

"It was only a dream," I reasoned.

She scoffed. "A dream, or a memory?"

I didn't answer. I didn't like the way the conversation felt, the walls closing in around me. My hands turned to fists, grasping the coverlet tightly as my jaw tensed. It would be impossible for the night to end in a way I would find satisfactory. She had handed me a white flag and dared me to raise it.

"May we discuss this later?"

Julia turned and looked at me, her face golden in the light but hard and angry. It was difficult to meet her eye as I knew she was frustrated with me. She had shared herself physically and my silence insulted her, my unwillingness to divulge what happened in my nightmares ravaged her insides.

"My God, you're still shaking," Julia whispered as she sat in the chair by the bedside. "I wish you trusted me."

"I do trust you."

She didn't reply. She sighed and stared at her folded hands.

"Julia, I don't want to talk about this. Not now," I pleaded. Not when the night had been perfect, when I shared something with her that I had never felt before.

"About Persia?" she questioned.

I looked away from her and nodded, feeling her hand over mine. My head was starting to throb, my heart pounding and hands sweating.

"You talk in your sleep," she whispered.

"Oh, God," I muttered, exhaling hard. There was no way for me to know what I had said or what I had done and it frightened me that I had no control, that I had lost control.

"Who is Daroga?" she asked.

My jaw tightened at her question and I stared at the coverlet over my legs. I shook my head gently, unwilling to answer her question.

"A woman?"

"No," I answered quickly. "No, he's…he was the police commissioner."

Julia didn't reply. I hated it when she asked questions and said nothing once I answered. The seconds ticked by and I nervously placed my hand over hers and ran my thumb over her knuckles, hoping, praying she would say something.

"He came to Paris," I blurted out. "To the opera house."

"For you?"

I nodded.

Again she said nothing. She sat with her hand limp beneath mine and her eyes averted. I studied her face, searching her expression for some telltale sign of how she felt or what she was thinking but there was nothing. She was waiting for me to finish, to divulge what I truly had no desire to tell her.

"He…he…he…" I wanted to scream. I couldn't arrange my thoughts. Not only was I being forced to share my nightmares but now I had trouble speaking, just as I had in youth when I stood without my mask before my mother or father. I was so ashamed of myself that I couldn't talk.

"The paper," I said finally. "The obituary. He wrote that I was dead, just as I had asked him. He thought I was dead. I wanted him to think I was dead so he would return to Persia."

I took a deep breath and released it, feeling my body shudder.

"You said his name twice," Julia said at last.

It wasn't a complete surprise, though I was relieved that I had called out for Nadir rather than the Little Sultana. Still, it left me uneasy, sick to my stomach. I had seen them both in my nightmares. I had seen something I hadn't relived in years and hoped I would never see again. I would have preferred seeing my father's face each night rather than the hell I had created once I left my parents' home.

"We were friends once," I said, forcing myself to stop and take another breath, unable to stop myself from repeating the same words over and over. "Or he was a friend of mine—as good of a friend as I could have had then-then in those days when I-I-I wasn't….tolerable." I stopped again and swallowed, licking my dry lips.

Julia rose from the chair and sat beside me on the bed. She placed her hand on my knee, attempting to comfort me, though there was nothing she could do to aid me save telling me we needn't go any further for the night. She obviously knew my reluctance. I had never had such trouble speaking in her presence, even when I spoke of my father.

"He…he was kind, though he feared me greatly because he knew…he knew as they all knew…there was no safety," I said, knowing I would stumble through this until I had told her everything. Sharing something so wretched with Julia made me want to vomit.

"Is that why you warned him?"

I stared at her again, unsure of what she meant. From the passage of dreams to wakefulness I remembered nothing of what I had said. The nightmare was strictly visual, horrifyingly detailed. It made me wonder if there were people who had dreams that were just as vivid but painted with blue skies and perfect sunsets. I knew from listening to Alex that those dreams did exist. Why couldn't I also dream in color, in something other than red?

"I don't remember," I said at last. "I don't remember what I said. I wasn't…wasn't awake when I spoke. I don't think. I don't know, Julia, I don't know what I said or what you heard or what it meant, even. I didn't know I said anything. I wish I didn't, I wish I hadn't woken you."

She shushed me and leaned forward, patting me gently on the shoulder.

Her gesture was my demise. She had no idea what horrors I had seen or what I had created. She had no idea what I had created that had ultimately been destroyed.

I broke down swiftly, head bowed until my chin touched my bare chest, my body shivering as I sat with only a coverlet draped up to my hips.

"They were criminals," I started softly, thinking back to the day I had signed the shah-of-shah's contract to design and oversee the construction of his palace and city. "Men condemned, men who deserved what they had coming to them. An eye for an eye…"

I needed to do something, to hold or touch, it didn't matter, but I needed something to stay preoccupied, to keep from focusing on my words and the horrors stirred within my mind. I twisted on the bed and opened the bedside table drawer and rummaged through it in the darkness. There was a crucifix. Of all things! A crucifix stared back at me, daring me to touch it. What happens if the devil touches a holy symbol? Would I erupt in flames? Would a lightning bolt strike me dead?

Unmasked, without my hair and without my clothes I could not have been more naked, more vulnerable than I was in that moment. And still she wanted more. Silence prolonged my suffering. I knew suffering. God Almighty I knew suffering and nothing compared to what I felt sitting before Julia.

"Criminals…murderers, rapists, extortionists, men who preyed on children," I blurted as I clutched the cold metal, ran my fingers along the smooth surface, over the golden figure who couldn't bear to look at me, who bowed his head beneath a crown of thorns.

"They deserved to die," I continued, convincing myself as I spoke. "They did. Truly, if there was a man who deserved to die he was imprisoned in Persia, those terrible, terrible…" Godless, I thought ironically.

"It was terrible…."


	42. The Terrible Truth

Ghost42

The dawn breaking through the curtains matched my mood: bleak and gray and hopeless. She would never speak to me again after this night. My hands began to tremble as I thought of losing her forever, of never seeing my Julia again because of my past wrongdoings.

"Were you…a prisoner there?" Julia asked, her voice stronger than I expected.

I was afraid to look her in the eye and see what pain I had caused her, so I studied my closed hands. The cross in my fist offered no comfort, only further mockery, fuller agony. My sins were too many, I thought. Nothing could save me. Not now.

"No," I answered, my voice barely a whisper. "I…I was employed by the Sultan. As an architect." I placed the crucifix on the coverlet and wiped my sweating hands on the soft blanket before grasping the talisman again. Though I didn't lift my eyes I could see Julia curiously staring at me and my frantic movements.

"How long were you there?"

"Three years."

Julia nodded amiably. "I wasn't aware that you were serious about architecture at one time."

It was an odd and uncomfortable thing for her to say and for me to hear. We had slept together hours ago and she knew nothing of my life. I didn't know how to react or what to say to her.

"What did you design?"

"Julia…"

"I need to know," Julia said softly. "I need to know you."

"It's…it's not me." I looked up at her suddenly feeling quite desperate to make her understand that what happened was not who I was, not who I wanted to be for her. There was a vast difference. She had to understand that I had changed, that I had done everything I could to show her I could be a good man.

"Tell me," she insisted. She grasped my hand again briefly, looking into my eyes without fear.

"Illusions," I said, abandoning the cross for her hands. "Two-way mirrors, trap doors, false walls. Automatons for the Sultan's sons and daughters."

There was something more I needed to tell her that prevented me from touching her. I pulled my hands away and pressed them into the mattress.

"Erik?"

We didn't look at one another. I knew I had to tell her everything now or she would discover it later. It would be worse if my past resurfaced a year from now, or five years, or if Alexandre and Lisette were listening.

"You…you must understand that there were things that had to be done. Necessary, quite necessary to keep the city safe, to protect it, really."

"What was necessary?" Julia asked.

"It's…it's very complicated. You…you must realize, Julia, that if allowed to run rampant these people would do great harm."

"The prisoners?"

"Yes, the prisoners. They could not be allowed to roam free. They needed to be kept away from…from decent people. They could not escape."

"What did you do to prevent their escape?"

"What I was told to do. I designed things. Very…they… they were very intricate, very specific designs…and purpose. Very specific purpose."

"You aren't making any sense, Erik. What was the purpose?"

She was so innocent, so perfect sitting beside me. I looked at her and saw a doll made of porcelain and wondered if my words would shatter her.

"It depended upon the design and the specific function. Some were meant to extract information while others were meant for extermination."

"Prison cells?"

"At the beginning, after the Sultana grew bored with trap doors and petty toys. She wanted something that would give her a shiver at the end of the day. That was how she described it. And…and I was employed under contract. You must understand that it was quite necessary and that these were terrible, terrible people."

"Did you…make…torture chambers?" Her voice dropped, her words accusing.

I grimaced at her word choice. It was an appalling word, I thought, one I didn't care for as it left her perfect lips. Twenty years ago it didn't matter to me what it was. The people condemned within my creation had meant nothing to me.

Whenever I grew reluctant to design yet another instrument or room the Sultana would coax me, draw forth the horrors and anger always thriving in my mind.

Because of my wretchedness the Sultan allowed me to be in the presence of his wives. I explained to Julia that the Sultana refused to ever touch me but she would walk the halls at my side, past the prison cells where the condemned awaited their fate.

Once the men saw me the Sultana would escort them into a private room and I would watch from behind the two-way mirror.

"They…they…they would say things. Their words would anger me, infuriate me and I…I don't know…it was as though I looked at them and they…they were no longer human, no longer real. They were just things, terrible, hateful, cruel things that I was asked to discard."

"They said things about you?"

I nodded. When I closed my eyes I could still see them contorting their own faces, I could hear them making terrible, guttural, feral, animalistic sounds as they rattled the cell bars. I couldn't recall the word they used but it meant the _Demon Servant_.

"Or about the mask?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, the Sultana would not permit me to wear it in the prisons. I…I…I was told to leave it with the guards when we entered."

Julia's only reaction was an exhale. She didn't move, she didn't say a word. She merely sat and stared at me. The silence was unbearable. Each second that passed was like another stab to my insides.

"Julia—"

"Did you kill them?"

"They were bad people," I said, attempting to reason, to justify what I had done. "Condemned, damned, terrible people who did terrible things."

"Did you kill them?" she asked again, her tone transformed to something harsh.

"No," I answered. "Not…not really."

"I don't understand."

"Haven't I told you enough?" I asked, my tone much harsher than I desired it to be when I spoke to Julia. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my clothes, dressing swiftly from the waist down.

The room was suddenly stifling, the ceiling low, the walls closing in around me. I wanted to throw the curtains aside, I wanted to close them tight, I wanted to curl up beside Julia and ignore all that had happened and I wanted to flee like a coward, return to my own home and crawl back beneath the city, all the way to the damned opera house.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you. I've told you everything. More than I have ever told anyone!"

"Honestly, you haven't told me anything about yourself, Erik."

"Then what have I done? I…I…" I stopped and clenched my fists, aggravated beyond comprehension. "I don't want to continue this conversation."

"What did you do in Persia?"

"I designed buildings and apparatuses for the Sultan and his favorite wife. Illusions, trap doors and the like."

"And what else?"

I turned and looked at her, meeting her eye. All of my life I had been so alone that I answered to no one. When I looked at Julia I knew that had changed. If I wanted to be with her I would have to tell her, and by telling her I risked everything I had.

Again I hesitated and hoped the question would disappear. She made me feel like a child. And like a child done wrong it was impossible for me to hide the truth as much as I tried to bury the skeletons, the nightmare that had voiced itself in the most horrific way.

"Nothing else. I've told you everything."

"If you had told me everything you would look me in the eye. Erik, look at me."

I did as she asked and felt dreadful, absolutely abominable for attempting to deceive her. She didn't understand that I had her best intentions at heart. I was attempting to protect her, not myself. Yet another vicious lie knifing through me, shaming me as I looked away again.

"Don't ask me another question," I muttered. "I've told you everything about the past."

"Did you design torture chambers?"

"It's not me," I said, shamefully avoiding her eye.

"Answer me with a 'yes' or a 'no'. Did you design torture chambers?"

My knees felt week, my throat closing up as the room grew dark despite the breaking dawn. All of these years I had kept this to myself, buried deep inside. It haunted me, plagued me like a cancer that grew inside every inch of my body, every corner of my mind. Nothing would rid me of its weight, of the constant gaping wound I felt whenever I thought of design, of the palace where I could hear the waves and smell the ocean. Nightmares twisted, dancing a strange and terrible tango that gravitated between thoughts of the father I had feared and the Persian Empire that feared and loathed me.

I looked at Julia and didn't want her to fear me. I studied her face and knew she would listen to me. Like no one else had ever done, had ever bothered to do, she would listen.

And I didn't want her to hear.

If even for another hour of my life I needed her to listen and to trust me, to show me that she cared. I needed her desperately as I had never needed anything or anyone. Slowly I returned to the bed and sat on the edge. The power I had gained over the years, the fear I had earned from slipping through doors unseen and creating unlucky accidents was gone. I was powerless. Perhaps I had always been weak, struggling, sniveling and cowardly. Perhaps I had not fooled only the world but myself.

For all the years of terror I had created there was something much bigger that still haunted me.

"Julia, you must understand. I was told they would all be criminals," I said softly. I stared at the door partially ajar and would have left that moment but my feet were leaden, my body seemingly sewn onto the fabric of the coverlet. "And they were. They were all men who didn't deserve to live. At first."


	43. A Walk Into Hell

Ghost43

Julia wasn't going to say a word, I knew. She moved silently into the chair and sat perched at the very edge, her hands clasped and her head at an angle, watching me carefully from the corner of her eye.

She dissected my words, picked them apart, ripped them open and examined the insides for hidden meaning, for something I may have inadvertently said. Somewhere deep inside I ached. My throat felt tight, my brow furrowed, my eyes unable to focus.

I sighed and hoped that I would suddenly awaken and find myself in bed still with my arms around Julia. I would kiss the back of her neck and laugh to myself, telling her I had a peculiar dream which would require no further detailed description.

"At first," Julia said slowly, tapping her fingers together. She looked at me a moment before studying her hands again. "That means something else followed."

This must have been how it felt to asphyxiate. I searched the blanket folds for the crucifix I had clutched earlier but my search was in vain. The talisman eluded me in my most desperate moment of needing to hold onto something, of needing to touch something solid. The aching I felt inside was turning to numbness. The stability I thought I had finally achieved gave way, sliding away like a trap door.

"What happened to the children?" Julia asked looking me in the eye again.

"Julia, please."

Julia rubbed her forehead and looked away. "Erik, do you know what it feels like for me to think of what you are capable of? To have no idea what you have done?"

"I didn't," I said, shaking my head, desperately wanting to hold her. "It never crossed my mind to harm a child. Never. I, I, I'm not…I'm not."

"Tell me the truth," she said, her voice trembling. Her heart was not behind her words.

"I'm telling the truth."

"Please tell me what happened," she said.

"I don't want to discuss it."

"You would rather wake screaming?" she asked. "You would rather wake sweating and screaming out in the middle of the night? I am not asking you to tell me out of shame and I am not trying to be cunning. I simply need to know."

"But this isn't me," I protested.

"Perhaps not in this moment but it was, wasn't it? At one time this was who you were."

I refused to admit that this was who I was or who I had been long ago. I knew I had not been tolerable long ago but I was never a man who could kill a child. Despite what had happened in my life I was never so wicked.

But still she was correct. This was what had been the seed of my nightmares. I crossed and uncrossed my ankles, wringing my hands as I kept my eyes trained on the center of the floor. There was something I had to tell her, something that had followed me for years, always prodding at my dreams and lingering at the threshold of my conscience.

"It-it-it wasn't on purpose. You must understand this, Julia; it wasn't intended to harm anyone other than those who had done harm themselves."

"What happened?" she asked slowly, evenly.

I looked at her briefly and expected to see her eyes filled with terror, her hands in a knuckle-whitened grasp as she sat beside this thing, this total stranger she had given herself to me so many nights in this house. I wondered if not knowing me frightened Julia worse than knowing Louis. She knew what he was capable of doing, but me? She knew nothing. Five years and she knew only a man who played violin and came to her home to undress and lie with her. She never knew who I had been.

"When I was in Persia I never expected to have anything at all," I said, attempting to explain myself.

"Tell me," she whispered.

She sat perfectly still, back straight, hands in her lap. Her face was pale, lips tightly pursed as she stared back at me, her eyes haunted, grief-stricken. I could only imagine what thoughts swirled through her mind, what little fragments of horror she pieced together after all I had painstakingly revealed. I was sick to my stomach knowing I hadn't yet told her anything.

"That's not who I am now," I said softly. I was a mocking bird to myself, stalling, buying time, further burying myself as the seconds ticked by.

I considered falling to my knees before her and begging her to forgive me but Julia was no weak-minded woman who would find sympathy for me in my dejected state. If I did something so foolish she would ask me to leave at once and that was not a risk I was willing to take.

"Did you murder innocent children?" she asked, patience waning. Her voice was thick with fear and it broke my heart to put her through this hell of mine. I glanced at her again and saw her hand shielding her lips.

"No," I said as I shook my head. "No, I never killed children. That is the truth, Julia, the honest-to-God truth." I was gasping when I spoke, sucking in gulps of air as though the next breath I took would be the last one.

"But you've mentioned before…" she said. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought. "Outside the Vicomte's hotel on the night we looked for Alex I told you that I hoped to God you would never harm a child. You never answered me that night. Why didn't you answer me?"

I shook my head lightly, unsure of what she meant. The only thing on my mind that night was finding Alex alive.

She folded her arms when she spoke, closing me off. "It frightens me, Erik, these thoughts honestly frightens me. I saw you with Alexandre yesterday afternoon and you were his father. In every sense of the word you were a compassionate, caring, loving father and now? Now I don't know what to think. I want to believe in you. I really, honestly want to put my faith in you but…do you understand how difficult it is for me?"

I glanced at her again and saw how glassy her eyes had become. She feared the worst but still she wanted me to say it, wanted me to either confirm or discard her thoughts. She had to be certain one way or another. Either I was truly a monster or I was a man who had suffered a lifetime, who had made terrible choices but had not committed a most heinous and unforgivable crime. Perhaps there was still hope for me if I had known limits, as distant and distorted as they were.

"They were not supposed to be in there," I started. My lip trembled when I thought of them, those two boys who were around Alex's age.

"No, no it's not what you think. I didn't hurt them. I wouldn't have hurt them, Julia, please believe me that I am not….I was never that. They aggravated me to no end but I never thought of hurting them."

"What happened?" she asked, her mouth covered, her eyes cast down and body slumped.

"I, I, I don't quite know. It was a maze of mirrors, and heat, and…and it was all an illusion. They knew it was not real, that the panels shifted, that the room appeared deeper, longer, taller when it wasn't anything. It wasn't anything, Julia, no, it was only an illusion. The dimensions were the same at all times but it gave the feeling of moving across a jungle."

My eyes searched the room as I became increasingly unwilling to look Julia in the eye.

"The Sultana had given me the idea of what she wanted and I went to work, making improvements, creating things that were amazing, really, like the sound of lions in the distance. It-it-it was amazing, really, given what it was. Everything was so real inside, and of course, since I had designed it, I went inside first to inspect it. For a long time I was quite proud of making it for the Sultana. I earned a great income from it and I-I-I was praised. Constantly. It was what they wanted, exactly what they wanted, and I was the only one who could make it. Only me. Only a genius, she said. And until then no one ever said anything nice to me. Never. So I was very, very pleased."

My feelings over the years had changed since the contraption that had brought me fame and notoriety soon became like a key that could unlock my night terrors. Gone now was the satisfaction I had in playing God. As I sat across from Julia I questioned my morality, my sanity, my judgment. My reality was warped, twisted into a scene upon a stage where nothing is real. It's all lights and costumes and applause, it's all black and white, good and bad, toying with the strings and making the audience believe what the writer wants.

For years I had captivated my audience, entranced them with macabre delights but now? Now there was no more audience. It was only me sitting alone attempting to pick apart what was real and imagined, what was good and what was bad. The reality I felt bearing down on me had few glimmers of good.

I had been a terrible, terrible person. There was really no difference between me and the men who had died in my machines, save I was paid and rewarded for their deaths.

"They must have been daring one another to step inside because they were both found the next morning. I suspected they turned on the furnace and cajoled one another to walk in and explore. There is nothing…nothing else I can think of as to why," I stopped, my voice betraying me, my mind seeing Alex in place of those two children both strewn out on the floor. "Why they would be so foolish," I finished.

"Who found them?" Julia asked.

The memory was too potent. Twenty years after that morning, I was genuinely sorry that they had died in that chamber, that they had suffered the way men who had raped a dozen women, and men who had slit the throats of the innocent had died.

If there was anyone who deserved to die within those walls of glass and mirrors and unbearable, hellish heat it was the monstrous thing that had created such agony.

I buried my head in my hands and began to weep for them as I had never done before. It was a strange feeling, something that made me feel lighter than I had been only moments before.

"I found them," I said. "On a Friday morning before the executions were to take place I walked in and found them both on the opposite side of the room. The older one was draped over his brother, protecting him, I think. They didn't know there was a button—a-a-a-a release, for the door, an-an escape from that place. There was always an escape. Always." My voice dropped so low that I could barely hear myself speak. "But they didn't find it."

Julia murmured something that sounded like a soft prayer and I wondered whose soul she would pray for: mine or the children lost on that long ago day. Secretly, selfishly I hoped her words were for me and that she still had faith that I could be saved

While we sat in silence I slowly found myself repulsed by my former life. That man, that thing that had lived in Persia wasn't me. It couldn't be me. I had a son, I had Julia…I had built a ramp in my back garden for a crippled man in order for him to spend time with his wife.

That was who I wanted to be, not the monster that invaded my sleep. The more I understood how much I loved Julia the more I wanted to be a better person for her, to prove I was worthy of her affection and her life.

If she loved me I could be a good man, gentle as a lamb, subservient to her every whim, to her every desire. I would do anything for her. She was the only person I could picture in my future. Without her…without her I would not have a future. My chest felt unbearably tight when I thought of losing her affection, of losing that gentle gleam in her eye and the soft smile she gave so willingly.

"It-it was all an accident," I mumbled.

"An accident?" Julia echoed.

The tone of her voice was indiscernible. I wasn't sure if she believed or mocked me. In desperation for her approval I grew angry with myself, frustrated at how I had destroyed our perfect evening, our joy of being together.

I ruined everything. Whatever I wanted, whatever I cherished I slowly destroyed, meticulously tore apart and ravaged. I was little more than a burden in her life, a constant struggle she agreed to fight with, to fight for. She didn't need me—at least not in the way that I needed her.

It terrified me that she wouldn't look at me. She felt so distant, so terribly apart from me in that small room. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her hand, wrap my arms around her, prove that I could be very, very good to her, but I couldn't move. If she pulled away from me I would know for certain that I had lost her. And I couldn't bear that thought.

"Are-are you afraid of me?" I asked, dreading her answer, dreading my demise if she turned and nodded, if she rose and left me alone. My eyes began to sting, my sinuses adding to the pressure I felt pounding in my skull.

"No, I'm not afraid of you. I've rarely been afraid of you" she said. She looked at me but couldn't bring herself to smile. "It's just that I need time to digest everything you have just explained," Julia said, leaning back in her chair. Will you give me time to consider?"

More time, I thought miserably. She wanted more time away from me, more time to forget me, erase me, ignore me until this nightmare living in the house behind hers disappeared at last. There is only so much strength one person can harbor and Julia contained much more strength than I ever could.

After all these years time had not healed me. I was in a tomb of my own cruel making, forgotten, left to rot away for all eternity. Here I was, here I had always been, suffering from my own deeds. And what was I doing now but attempting to drag Julia down with me?

Sweet, loving, caring, beautiful Julia, I thought as I felt the tears sting my eyes. She had spent years in hell with Louis, forced to please him at night, forced to endure his temper and fist and now…now she punished herself yet again.

"Time," I whispered. "More time."

I moved like the walking dead and collected my shirt and my waistcoat which had been discarded on the floor. From the corner of my eye I could see the bed we had shared and the woman who meant more to me than anything in the world watching me, studying my every move.

"What are you doing?" Julia asked.

A strange sensation washed over me, one I didn't understand. If I loved her—truly, deeply, endlessly cared for her—I would give her as much time as she wanted.

"I love you," I answered as I adjusted my hair. "If you believe nothing else I have said today then believe what I tell you now because I want you to know how much I care for you."

She looked at me, her face contorted, her eyes red from the sleep I deprived her of and the tears I had caused.

"Not once in my life did I ever believe I would be with anyone at all, in any way. I was well into my twenties before anyone—anyone at all dared to touch me."

I paused and silently thanked Madeline for giving me more of a chance than anyone else. For better or worse she had saved my life.

"As simple as an embrace, Julia, not even a kiss, not anything more than an embrace. You don't know what it was like to be a grown man when I first felt someone hold me," I said, unable to stop myself from crying, from burying my face in my hands in the deepest, most shameful moment I had ever experienced.

"Everything I did wrong was my own," I continued, forcing myself to speak, to convey what I felt burning inside. "I would live and die with myself and no one would care. And then I had Alex, and then I found you and now…."

Now I needed time as well to live with myself.

I reached out for Julia and stopped when my hand was a hairsbreadth from her cheek. Silently I nodded and hoped she would understand that it was because I loved her that I couldn't touch her yet, that I couldn't ask any more of her than she had given.

"Erik?" she questioned.

I shook my head. There was nothing else I had to say to her, nothing else I could offer her. I sobbed as I turned from her, as I forced my eyes from her face and left her to her thoughts.

She followed me into the hall and the last words I heard from her were like old knife wounds reopened.

"Poor, unhappy Erik," she said.

Her words echoed what Christine had said to me so many years ago.

That was all I could think of as I blindly left her home and returned to my own back garden. I grasped the unfinished railing as I dragged my feet up the ramp and entered the kitchen.

"Where did you walk to? Istanbul?" Madeline asked snidely when she saw me. She shook her head at me and my disheveled appearance. Undoubtedly there were black rings around my eyes. "You say you are going for a walk and then…then….Erik? What's wrong? Where did you go?"

I looked at her a moment, consumed by the worst pain I had ever felt. My lip trembled when I stared at her.

"To hell," I answered. "I walked into hell."

And then I returned to my room, to the only place I felt safe. I shut the door and had no intention of ever leaving my little cage again.


	44. SelfDestruction

_This is on the graphic side for violence. ._

Ghost44

There was a fresh bouquet of flowers sitting on my writing desk when I returned to my room and locked the door. Through blurry eyes I stared at the arrangement, my chest feeling so tight I thought my heart would burst. The last thing I wanted was to see something living, something to remind me that there was a world beyond this room.

A murmur of voices followed behind me, as did a knock, which I ignored. I couldn't steady my breathing or my hands and my vision failed me. Blindly I felt for the bedposts and sat down hard wondering if this was what a heart attack felt like. So much pressure! I wanted to stick a knife into my chest and relieve the buildup, the tension I felt throbbing within my ribcage.

Oh God, I thought, I am never going to see Julia again. I pressed one hand over my chest and the other to my mouth and doubled over, the pain far too much to bear. Each breath hurt worse than the last, and before I thought for certain that I was on the brink of death I released a howl so deep and guttural that at first I didn't know that it was I that made the sound.

The transformation from complete devastation to white-hot anger was so swift that I barely realized that I had grown angry. When I found myself pacing the room it was as though I was not within my own body. I became a mere spectator watching this enraged creature storming back and forth through the small space, fists clenched, legs stiff, nostrils flared.

I stopped before the mirror, that damned, dreaded mirror, and wanted to kill the beast who glared back at me.

The image on the outside had confined me long enough in the world. I wanted out of this maimed, repulsive, disgusting shell. I was weary of all the years I had spent as a carcass, as a corpse that made my mother shriek and turned my father violent. A strange and dangerous thought passed through my mind. Perhaps my ruined flesh was a mask and there was something beneath it, something worthy of adoration.

I left the mirror and went to my desk, ripping out drawers, tossing aside papers and ink wells in search of a knife or a letter opener. It didn't matter one way or another if it was sharp or dull. I would cut myself and find out if there was something underneath that wicked face.

If Aria hadn't jumped on the desk I would have done something asinine. She dug her claws into my fist and bit my knuckles, attempting to start a game. I brushed her aside and she lunged, snagging her nails on my shirt sleeve.

Her determination to keep my attention made me sob, and within moments I was slumped over the desk attempting not to scream out in agony. She purred in my ear and licked my face with her sandpaper tongue, oblivious to my misery.

For a moment she settled me, but I was on the brink of a much larger cavern than I ever knew existed. Quietly, as to not disturb her, I rose from the desk, took her in my hand, and placed her on the other side of the door. She looked up at me with her one eye and meowed softly in protest.

"I cannot care for you," I told her softly before I shut the door.

With calm precision I locked it once more and stared at the mirror, at that terrible invention. I couldn't bear looking at that thing a moment longer, at that beast that existed within the wooden frame.

That was not me. It couldn't be who I was. I wouldn't tolerate another moment of that distorted, mangled man. That was the murderer, the cold-blooded, remorseless creature who threatened my happiness.

I had not asked for much over the years. I did not ask to be crowned king or made a deity. My needs were simple, basic, sustaining desires given freely to the rest of the world. Gifts, blessings upon others that would never be mine no matter what I did or how hard I tried. I was undeserving and incapable of unconditional love.

And it was because of this wretched face, this corpse's face, this terrible, loathsome, horrifying face. This was what caused my misery, what made me a monster. Half man and half beast. When I gazed at the reflection I knew the beast was taking over, usurping what little power I struggled to keep.

I was losing.

Again I stepped away from my body, from the pain I felt burning through my insides. One by one I picked the roses from the vase, squeezing the long stems in my fist as I ripped away the petals and leaves and discarded them onto the desktop. Splatters of water fell onto the crisp white sheets and destroyed each carefully written note, but soon a different tune was played out on paper.

Blood. My blood in tiny drops created a symphony of havoc. I didn't feel the thorns pierce my palm or the warmth trailing down the sides of my hand. I couldn't smell the fragrance of roses or the pungent, salty scent of blood in the air. I felt truly dead both inside and out.

Once the roses were destroyed and tossed aside I clutched the white vase with my sticky hands and poured the remaining water in the rubbish bin. Calm settled over me, a deceiving undercurrent to the rage I felt tremor like an earthquake through my insides.

I would destroy the beast, the anathema to my existence.

With the vase in hand I walked to the mirror and stared at that man I had tolerated for forty-two years. I wanted to kill him.

My hand reached out, stained red and trembling, and touched the cold, smooth surface. I smeared red across the mirror, over the eyes and the lips and the deformity I wanted to rip away. Each move I made was mocked, repeated in perfect time, and I slammed my fist into the glass to make that wretched beast stop.

The glass rattled, the wooden frame tilting back before it righted itself again. The eyes still stared, wild and enraged, daring me to continue.

He would not die easily.

But still I tried to kill him. I swung the vase back and threw it into the mirror, my muscles fueled by the most violent rage I had ever experienced. The face that I felt nothing but revulsion for each time I removed the mask was turned into spidery cracks before my eyes but didn't die. He was still there, shattered but existing.

So many years ago my parents had used my appearance as punishment against me. I hit the mirror again and again with my fists, each time a tribute to the anguish I felt over the years. Once for the first time I watched the cellar door shut, once for the first time I recognized the name on the tombstone, once for the first beating that broke my rib and once for the chains that thwarted my escapes.

I had no idea how much time had passed. I didn't know what stopped me until there was blood everywhere and I was on my knees sobbing and shaking and staring at a shard of glass on the floor. And another. And another. And that terrible man still existed a thousand times over as he would always exist and endure and mock me until the end of my days.

No matter what I did he would be there, sometimes only on the outside, sometimes poisoning my insides.

A sharp pain suddenly cut through the blanket of numbness that shrouded my mind. I sat panting, attempting to hold back the sickness I felt threatening.

A piece of glass had impaled my hand through the meatiest part of my palm. It had entered at a nauseating angle that reached the base of my wrist and tore down until it stopped at the base of my thumb. The sight transfixed me, captivated me as I suddenly woke from my madness and glanced around at the destruction I had caused.

Madness was replaced by desperation to staunch the flow of blood. The sight made my stomach churn. I had sliced not only my hand but the base of my wrist where the veins were usually blue. The wound was not deep, though it was a good two inches long and split like a canyon. Warm, red blood was pulsing from the wound like water from a pump. I cursed softly and attempted to blink away the dark spots in my vision.

I rose to my feet and heard the sudden pounding on the door and a woman screaming. Three women, I realized suddenly. Meg, Madeline and Ruby were standing outside the door screaming for me to answer, undoubtedly beside themselves from what they heard beyond the door.

In a daze I turned the lock, cradled my hand and stared back at them, squeezing my wrist in a failing attempt to stop the blood. My senses were piqued. I could smell the coppery scent of my own life source, feel the rush of warmth gathering in the palm of my good hand, and feel my knees turn to liquid beneath me. Everything I had drowned out came back tenfold.

"I broke the mirror," I said simply. "And now I think I may have killed myself."


	45. Overheard

Thanks to all of you for reviewing the last chapter! That was the most reviews for a single chapter yet! I really appreciate you letting me know that you're out there!

Ghost45

Madeline was issuing orders from the moment I walked into the hall. She shooed Meg down the stairs and told her to take Alex outside. Her words alarmed me, and I turned and walked back into my room, still bleeding profusely, still wandering aimlessly with a shard of glass protruding from my hand.

"Grand-mere?" Alex questioned. "What was that sound?"

"Alex, wait on the front steps for Mademoiselle Leach."

"But, Grand-mere….May I see Father?"

"Alex, outside!" Madeline barked.

I sat down at the desk and took up a pen with my left hand. For a long moment I blankly stared at the ruined sheets of music, pen poised at the top of the page. My only thought was that I needed to rewrite each piece of music, but I couldn't write left-handed. My greatest concern was neglecting my music, the music that had never been my friend but had alleviated my loneliness and boredom enough for me to survive all those years.

Cold passed through me and I shuddered, blinking rapidly once I was certain I was about to pass out. I started to pick at the glass embedded in my hand, suddenly feeling the pain resonating around the object.

"Don't touch it," Madeline instructed from behind. Her hand squeezed my shoulder and she shook me. "What in the hell were you thinking? You've completely destroyed this room, you've terrorized the whole house and now you're bleeding to death. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Her words broke me again, and I laid my hand on the desk and glanced at her from over my shoulder.

"I don't want to look like this anymore," I said.

Her grip softened into a gentle caress and she gave a sympathetic nod. "You need your hand sutured."

She looked away from me for a moment and told Ruby to fetch the tin from the linen closet. Ruby, who appeared unaffected, nodded and walked from the room.

"Am I going to die?" I asked.

Madeline pulled up a chair beside me and shook her head. She seemed strangely at ease given that I was still bleeding, but her eyes showed grave concern. The blood flow had slowed considerably, though there was still an unhealthy pool collecting on the tabletop.

"I don't think so," she said as she opened a handkerchief and gently mopped up blood. "Though I think you've given yourself a good scare."

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what I thought anymore.

"Erik?" Madeline looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Was that your intention? To kill yourself?"

"No," I answered blankly, looking away. Her insinuation stung. "No, it wasn't."

Madeline pressed the handkerchief onto the swollen sides of my hands and the glass moved upward, sending a bright red flow over the dull red that covered the desktop and my ruined musical scores.

"Does Alex know what happened?" I asked quietly.

"No, he was out of the house early running errands for Meg and Ruby. He only just returned a moment ago."

I nodded and closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning. Blood had never bothered me before now. It was a strange sensation to suddenly fear death and whatever may lay beyond for me. For the majority of my years I had been unconcerned about the possibilities, as it seemed Hell would make little difference to me. I couldn't imagine a worse fate than the one I had experienced.

"Where did you go last night?" Madeline asked flatly.

"Julia's home."

"And you stayed the night?" she asked.

At that point I would have preferred death to answering her questions. The last thing I wanted to tell Madeline was that I had fallen asleep beside Julia, despite her knowing what we did at night.

I nodded and hoped she would change the subject once she saw my reluctance to answer.

"Did you know Madame Seuratti is in the dining room?" Madeline asked. She looked away but her hand remained over mine.

"She doesn't want to see me," I droned miserably.

Madeline grunted. "If she didn't want to see you she would not have come here."

I sucked in a breath in an attempt to keep my nose from running. "She needs more time," I whispered. "Time, more time, she needs time yet again."

"Time for what?" Madeline asked.

"Time to forget me," I mumbled, which upset me more than I would have imagined after all I had experienced. I pursed my lips and closed my eyes briefly, focusing my attention on breathing, attempting to block out the pain from my throbbing hand and in my chest.

"You both need to stop this foolishness," Madeline snapped. "I'm tired of you slinking out in the night and returning at indecent hours."

Her tone surprised me. I had never heard Madeline speak ill of anyone, and she never dared to tell me what I should or shouldn't do.

Ruby returned before Madeline could continue her lecture. When she saw the new cook standing in the doorway she motioned her forward.

"Are you prone to fainting or weak of heart around bloodshed?" Madeline asked.

"Not in the least," Ruby replied.

"Good. Remove the glass and suture this for Monsieur Kire. I must tend to our guest."

Ruby stepped forward, shaking her head. "Madame Lowry is with—"

"I'll return in a moment," Madeline said sternly as Ruby took her place in the chair before me and began laying out needles, thread, strips of bandage and boric acid.

I had never spoken to Mademoiselle Dubois alone, aside from the day I had hired her. Even then Alex had been present to occupy her attention. She appeared unaffected by the wound as she blew a strand of hair from her eyes and leaned forward. Her actions made me curious but not enough so that I felt inclined to question her.

"Would you like me to remove the glass or would you rather do it?" she asked.

"I don't care," I answered, though inside my stomach felt as though it had turned inside out.

"Perhaps you should lie down. You are quite pale, Monsieur Kire."

I felt like my body was struggling between fever and chills. With a curt nod I rose, covered my hand with the soaked handkerchief, and walked to my bed. My mind was not quite focused on the urgency at hand, as I removed my shoes before I lay down on my back and showed Ruby the wound.

"You're fortunate," she said upon examination.

"I suppose that depends on your views of fortune," I muttered, looking away from the pink inside of my hand as she cleaned the wound.

Compared to the rest of my dejected existence this mortifying incident seemed fitting.

"It looks much worse than it is, Monsieur Kire. If you had cut your wrist further up you would have risked a chance of bleeding to death. You're lucky the glass sliced at an angel rather than straight up. That would have been fatal, I think."

"Oh," I said merely for the sake of saying something.

"If a shard of glass had penetrated deeper here," she said, pressing her finger inches below the inside of my elbow where my shirt sleeve was torn. "You would have hit a nerve."

I grunted to acknowledge her words and closed my eyes, hoping she would tend the wound without further conversation. If I had not been in such tremendous agony both mentally and physically I would have asked how she knew so much, but instead I just lay and waited for the worst to be over.

"Forgive me, Monsieur, this may—"

Without intending to I swore loudly as she pulled the glass from my hand.

"Bloody hell! Say something before you do that!" I shouted.

"Hurt," she finished, holding a rag over the newly opened wound. "Hold still."

"Hold still," I seethed in my state of total agony. "You hold still."

I grit my teeth, breathing harder, body stiffening as fiery pain tore through my hand and up my arm. She held the rag down firmly over the wound to keep the blood from pouring out and waited for me to stop trembling before she did anything else.

"The rest of the cuts don't look bad enough to require stitches," Ruby said. "Though you should keep your whole hand covered to prevent infection."

For a young girl she impressed me with her knowledge and ability to remain calm. I was glad she was sewing me back together, as I couldn't imagine Madeline remaining in the room.

"Monsieur, hold very still again," Ruby instructed.

I barely noticed the needle and thread passing through my flesh. My mind was elsewhere, locked on the conversation I could hear through the open door.

"You should return home," Madeline said.

I knew by her tone of voice that she was restraining herself. In my mind I could see her standing with her fists clenched and arms set at her side, face contorted in a scowl.

"Madame, I want to see him," Julia replied.

"I believe you have seen enough of him for one day," Madeline snapped.

There was silence for a moment. I swallowed hard and attempted to ignore their conversation.

"Pardon me?"

"What are you trying to do to this man?" Madeline demanded.

"I don't know what you mean, Madame Giry, I just—"

"You send him back and forth, promising him a courtship and back-peddling on your word. You lure him over to your house, send him back and tell him to stay away for weeks on end."

"Lure?"

"Then you allow him back for a moment when it is convenient to you. You treat him like an animal."

"Madame—"

"How dare you torment him, Madame Seuratti," Madeline seethed. "He has been through enough! You have no right to send him back in this manner."

"Madame, with all due respect, I know what he has been through. I did not ask him to leave my home. He did so of his own accord."

"If I were not a good Catholic woman I would have more to say to you on that matter, Madame," Madeline cut into Julia.

I heard Julia sigh in frustration. "Madame, I don't want to argue with you. I believe you are mistaken."

Madeline snorted. "You should leave at once."

"I would like to see Erik. Please, Madame, I need to speak with him."

"No."

"Would you please ask him if I may see him?"

"He does not want to see you."

"I believe he can make his own decisions on the matter, Madame. He is a grown man."

"You have done more than enough," Madeline said, her control steadfastly waning. "You and your demands for more time. What do you want from him? He cares for you. That's obvious to everyone in this house that he cares for you and would do anything you ask out of the goodness in his heart. And what do you do to him? Why, each time he returns from your home he's upset."

"That's not true. Madame, please."

"You give him false hope. You lead him to believe that you will marry him and then….I don't even know what you're doing."

Julia was silent for a moment.

Ruby snipped the last of the thread. "I need to rethread the needle," she said quietly, apparently listening in on the talk of the neighborhood. My head swam, temples pounding so fiercely that I couldn't think.

"Fine," I answered.

"Your son is an absolute pleasure," Ruby commented. "I enjoy having him in the kitchen when I'm cooking."

I grimaced at the feel of the needle piercing the palm of my hand, which made me curse, softly this time. She had started the sutures at the wrist where the worst damage had been done.

"You know he is spending the day with Mademoiselle Leach today," Ruby continued. "They are pretending to court. I think he's doing it to make Lisette jealous."

"Perhaps," I groaned.

Eyes closed, I continued to listen to Madeline and Julia, attempting to block out the pain.

"Madame Giry, exactly what do you think I have done to that man?"

"You are destroying him, do you not realize that? You are destroying him," Madeline retorted, trying in vain to keep her voice down.

"By asking for a proper courtship?"

"You ask him to spend the night in your home. That, Madame, is not a proper courtship."

Julia said nothing again, though there was not much she could say to Madeline.

"Are you so ignorant that you don't see what you're doing to him? With your foolish games and your constant prodding at his tolerance, you are destroying him. He has suffered enough in his life, and I will not stand back and watch you continue to torture him."

"Torture him?" Julia gasped.

"I thought you would be good for him, Madame Seuratti. When he returned from your home in April he was happy. Happy! For the first time since Alex came to him he was genuinely contented in this house. For the past three months he has been honestly trying to be a father to Alex and a member of this household. And I thought it was because you loved him, that you made him happy because you loved him."

"I do love him."

"If you loved him you would not put him through this hell."

"I'm putting him through hell?"

Madeline didn't answer, so Julia continued.

"Madame Giry, if I didn't love him I would have married him without question," Julia retorted. "I would have continued to keep him as a stranger. Don't you dare tell me I don't love him or I've put him through hell or whatever nonsense you believe."

"You don't know how he has suffered," Madeline said quietly. "You don't know how cruel people have been to him all of his life."

"I know enough," Julia replied.

"You must leave," Madeline said firmly. "If he wishes to see you he will come to you."

"No, he won't, and you know it's true. If I leave as you ask me to I will never see him again." Her voice broke at the end and my good hand gripped the bed sheets. "I will never see him again. And possibly neither will you."


	46. Anger to Numbness

Ghost46

"That's enough," I said to Ruby as I started to sit up.

"No, Monsieur Kire," she protested. "You're not finished yet."

"It can wait," I assured her as I gathered the dangling thread and needle in my good hand and stood on my wobbling legs. "Cut the thread."

"Monsieur—"

"Mademoiselle, cut the thread."

She gave me a questioning look but did as I requested. With the thread snipped I took a clean rag from the bedside table and gingerly wrapped my hand and wrist.

The wound had closed on its own enough so that I wasn't dripping blood as I walked toward the door. I had always been blessed with the ability to quickly heal, as well as immunity to most fevers and illnesses. My encounter with the Vicomte and my incident with the mirror were the first two times in my life where this seemed beneficial. In the past it had only meant that my father could hit me harder and often, as the bruises healed quickly.

"Monsieur, you should rest," Ruby said in a last attempt to keep me lying down. She stepped forward, her shoes crunching on bits of glass scattered across the wooden floor.

Her expression made it quite evident that she was gravely concerned. I doubted she had ever experienced anything like what she had seen within my house. I expected by the end of the day that she wound find employment elsewhere and escape all of this mayhem.

"In a moment, Mademoiselle," I said as I left the room.

I walked into the hall and found Madeline blocking the stairs, preventing Julia from walking past her. I had never seen Madeline appear so assertive before. Both of her arms were rigid, her hands in a knuckle-white grasp around the railing.

"You honestly think this is my doing? What about you allowing him to stay in that room for the past nine years?"

"That was his decision," Madeline replied.

"Exactly. His decision, Madame, just as it was his decision to leave my home today."

"I have done nothing to make him miserable," Madeline replied.

"Honestly, Madame, you cannot believe I have…" Julia saw me at the top of the stairs and paused. She smiled slightly until her eyes went from mine to my wrapped hand. "Erik."

When we looked at one another I inadvertently clenched my fists. The action made me grimace and inhale sharply, though I said nothing.

It was strange to see her again after all I had confessed to her. I didn't expect to see her for weeks, if ever again, especially after the manner I had taken leave from her home. She knew more about me than anyone could possibly tolerate. What love she had felt for me had surely dwindled. Perhaps, I thought, she only felt sorry for me now. There was no other reason I could fathom for her to come to my home.

"You're hurt," Julia murmured.

I glanced down at my hand and saw a growing blotch of red on the stark white material. Clenching my fist had reopened the wound, which still throbbed with each pulse of blood through my hand.

Madeline turned and looked at me. "You're going to bleed everywhere," she said through her teeth. She started up the stairs but I walked down to meet her.

"I'm fine," I said to Madeline, my attention still garnered by Julia. "It's not bleeding freely anymore."

"Freely? What happened?" Julia asked.

"It doesn't matter if it's bleeding badly or not, you're still injured," Madeline retorted. She pushed on my shoulder, attempting to physically move me back up the stairs. At any other time I would have found her actions amusing but I didn't want her doting over me a moment longer. I hated hearing them argue over something so petty. For years they had exchanged recipes and chatted for hours by the back gate. I wanted that back.

Julia darted past Madeline and met me at the center of the staircase. She reached out to touch my hand but stopped herself and grimaced, afraid to worsen the injury. "Oh, Erik, what happened?"

I didn't say anything. I looked at her, unsure of what my intentions were now that I was standing before her.

Julia couldn't decide what she wanted to do. She started to reach for my hand again, stopped herself, then reached once more and took hold of the cloth I had wrapped around it. She glanced up again and met my eye briefly before turning back to the injury.

I watched as she cradled my hand in hers and slowly removed the wrapping. She gasped as she discovered my bloody, lacerated hand. Her face paled as she covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she shook her head in dismay.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, Erik, oh, no. What happened?"

"You need more time," I said obtusely as I pulled my hand away. "You deserve more time…after what I've done to you."

In shame I lifted my hand and started to cover the right side of my face but stopped and looked away from her. I wished I could control myself. I wished I could change everything I had done in the past and be good for her, be what she deserved. She had spent too many years with a man who had hurt her. I wanted what was best for her, and when I looked at Julia I couldn't imagine how I could be that for her.

Julia shook her head. "You haven't done anything to me, Erik. Please, I want to speak with you. You left so suddenly, without giving me a moment to talk to you. Come, lie down again and I'll look at your hand. You still need more stitches," she whispered.

"Mademoiselle Dubois is tending the wound," Madeline said gruffly. She glared at me and motioned me back to my room. "You've been through enough today. Let Ruby finish with your hand," Madeline said.

I turned, too tired to argue with either of them.

"Where are you going?" Julia asked before I had walked more than two steps. She reached for my good hand and I stopped when her fingers wrapped around mine. Above all else I still craved her touch.

"To my room," I answered curtly, pulling my hand away.

"Do you want me to leave?" Julia asked. Her words were spoken quickly, desperately. It had been a long time since I had dared to be so short with her. For a moment I stood with my back to her, afraid to see her expression.

I closed my eyes and growled. "If you want to stay—"

Before I knew she had moved, Julia stood beside me, holding onto my arm. Her lips trembled but she nodded again. "I want to stay with you."

"Then I'll return to the parlor in a moment," I said as I started up the stairs again.

She moved with me, clutching my arm. "Please let me speak with you now," she begged me. "If only for a moment."

"In the parlor," I said again.

Her hand absently reached up and straightened my collar, picking away a shard of glass still stuck in my shirt. She studied the sliver a moment, her face contorting as she held it between her fingers.

"It was a mirror, wasn't it?" Julia asked, her voice trembling.

I looked away from her, unable to answer her with even a nod.

She reached up and touched my neck, her fingers smoothing over my skin and the fabric. "What have I done to you?"

"Mademoiselle Dubois is not finished yet," I told her. I swallowed hard and stared at the wall. "This is my doing, not yours. Everything was my doing, Julia."

"Erik, let me take care of you," she whispered. She smoothed my shirt, her palm rubbing over my chest.

My stomach twisted as I pulled her hand away. She gave me a questioning look but said nothing as I took a step back.

"Goodbye, Julia," I mumbled, my insides aching as I refused her. In that moment I felt little pieces of my heart shrivel and die. By the time I closed my bedroom door I had squeezed my fist so tightly that blood was dripping onto the rug.

Strangely, I couldn't feel a thing.


	47. Healing

Ghost47

Ruby had cleaned up the majority of the broken glass by the time I returned to my room. She smiled wanly at me as I lay down again and presented the bloody wrapping dangling from my hand.

"I should wash my hands again," she said.

I had lost my desire to speak with anyone. Closing my eyes I nodded and sighed, attempting to get comfortable while I waited for her.

The moment was surreal. With my eyes closed I could still see Julia's face. It was the only way I would ever see her again. It was over. After five years of being with her intimately and at last something more…it had ended. My insides ached, and I knew it would be weeks, months, years, perhaps decades before I could release her from my mind.

I wished I had hit the mirror so hard that I had sent glass flying straight into my heart. If I were impaled it couldn't hurt nearly as much as what I felt when I thought of her on the stairs, when I saw her face before I walked away from her.

She had come to me, and I had turned my back on her.

When Ruby left, Aria and Bessie lumbered into the room and sniffed at my injured hand. Sensing something was wrong, Bessie whined and nudged my fingertips, causing me to draw my arm up to a ninety-degree angle so that they wouldn't lick the open wound. She continued to fuss, but I ignored her and attempted to think of something, anything but Julia.

Aria curled up beside my head and decided the best thing she could do was clean my face. I wasn't sure if it was an act of comfort or if she found the salty tracks at the corner of my eyes interesting enough to warrant investigation.

Their presence, for the most part, went unnoticed. By entering the room they had left my bedroom door ajar, and through the opening I could hear Meg and Julia. It surprised me that she was still within my home.

"He doesn't mean it," Meg said softly. "He loves you. You know how much he loves you."

"I've hurt him," Julia said weakly. "Meg, you can't imagine how much I've hurt him."

Meg was silent for a moment. In my mind's eye I could see her sitting on the steps with her arms around Julia, the perfect little caring mother.

"Maybe it would be for the best if the two of you spent a day or two apart."

"I don't want to be away from him. I know your mother thinks that I treat him just horribly," Julia cried. "I'm not trying to hurt him. I swear it. I thought this would be for the best and now I've ruined it. Perhaps your mother was right. Perhaps I've done nothing more than torture him for years."

"No, I don't think that's true. She's just…she's just being protective. Julia, if you would have seen the way he looked when he came through the back door…"

"I know how he looked," Julia said before Meg could finish. "Sometimes, when he's so upset over something, he just….he changes. He wouldn't listen to me, or look me in the eye or allow me to touch him. I kept asking him over and over to stay in the house and it was like he didn't realize I was holding onto him. The only reason I let go was because he nearly shut the back gate on my arm."

"It must have been something terribly upsetting," Meg agreed.

There was a pause from both of them and I could hear Julia sniffling.

"I don't know what to do for him to make him happy."

She made me happy. Of all the people in the world Julia was the only person who lightened my heart whenever I saw her face or stood near her. I craved her, needed her with me. But I feared upsetting her, mistreating her.

"He'll come around," Meg said hopefully.

Julia sniffled, her tears turning to hyperventilation. I took a deep breath and sighed, my chest tightening, white-hot agony centering on my heart. We were both wounding one another no matter whether we were together or apart. I wanted to pound on the mattress and scream that it wasn't fair. I wanted to know what I was supposed to do, what I was supposed to say to mend everything that had happened.

The front door opened and I heard Alex and Lisette both giggling as they slammed the door shut.

"May I see Father now?" Alex inquired.

"Go to the dining room. I'll fix you something to eat," Meg replied.

"You? Where's Ruby?"

"Ruby is busy. Now go," Meg said, her tone firm. "Both of you wait in the kitchen."

"Mother, your face is all red," Lisette exclaimed. "Were you crying?"

"I'm fine, Lisette," Julia answered. "I'll be fine."

"Are you upset about Uncle Max?" Lisette asked with the perfect innocent inquisitiveness of a child.

Julia was silent for a moment. "Go with Alex."

"Mother, he's still in the parlor."

"Lisette, go," Julia said, her voice rising. She sighed and sniffled again. "I should return home. My brother doesn't like to wait."

Ruby returned to the room and shut the door behind her, muffling the voices on the stairs. She had a fresh towel in hand, which she waved at the cat and dog to get them both away from the bed. Bessie slunk away, whining and groaning to voice her displeasure, but Aria gave a low growl, extending her paw and catching the towel.

"Shoo, cat," Ruby said sternly. She looked at the towel and her bare hands, considering whether or not she wanted to remove the cat and wash her hands again.

I lifted Aria up to place her on the floor, but she bit my thumb and I swore softly, dropping her unceremoniously to the ground. She landed on her feet, as cats do, and made a terrible noise before running to the door and scratching at it, her tail bushy and spine arched. Her actions alarmed me. She was normally docile, and in the weeks she had been within the home she had never bitten me or anyone else as far as I knew.

"Ooh, these beasts!" Ruby said through her teeth. She wrapped the towel around the doorknob and let the cat and dog out. "I apologize, Monsieur, I know you are fond of the cat and dog, but it's best not to risk infection."

I ignored her words. My jaw was clenched, my muscles tense. Julia's brother was waiting in her parlor. He was in Paris earlier than expected, I thought. He wasn't supposed to be visiting for another day or two according to Archie.

"Are you going to be alright?" Meg asked. I could hear them from the opened window as they stepped onto the porch.

Julia must have nodded.

"Would you like me to pay a visit before dinner?"

"No, no I don't want anyone to visit while Max is over." She paused. "I can't have anyone over."

"Julia, do you really think you should be alone? After what you told me—"

"Would you do something for me, Meg?" Julia asked suddenly.

"Yes, of course. I would do anything for you, Julie."

"Would you tell him….would you tell him that I want to see him again and I want to tell him something, but I…I can't have him visit while Max is here. It's not that I don't want to see him. I do want to see him and I wish he would see me. I wish he would forgive me."

"Julia, don't cry," Meg begged her. "Everything will be fine."

"Please tell him that on my behalf. Will you promise me?" Julia asked. "Tell him that I do love him and I don't want to hurt him."

Her voice sounded different though familiar. With my eyes closed I could still see her years ago when Louis would catch her by the arm or around the waist. She would only be visible for a few moments, but the image of him taking her by the hair and dragging her away boiled within me.

I could still hear her pleading, begging him to stop. The other neighbors must have also heard her during the summers when the sound of him slapping her carried out Julia's windows and into mine.

That was the tone of voice I remembered. The sound of terror reserved for nights when Louis would force her into their bed, when he took her against her will and pressed her against the window for the neighbors to see.

All those years ago I felt a kinship with Julia. I knew what it was like to be humiliated and injured. I knew what it was like to feel intimidated and powerless, but I didn't know the shame she felt when he forced himself onto her. That, above all else, made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end, made rage consume me like the very fires of hell.

I knew that voice, that terrified voice once pleading to her husband to stop hurting her. But now she was afraid of her brother. And I was not there to help her, not even after she had taken me into her home and nursed me back to health.

She was the only woman who would ever accept me. Even after I had told her our years together were an arrangement, not a relationship, she continued to be patient and understanding. Julia had loved me long before I realized I cared for her. I wished I had remembered that in my deepest, darkest hour when I bled myself before her. If there was anyone who would attempt to understand it was Julia. It was the woman who wanted to know who I was.

"Please tell him I want to see him again. If I can leave unnoticed I would like to see him tomorrow," Julia whimpered. "If he would see me. If he would forgive me."

"Julia, wait…Julie!"

I could hear her crying grow more distant and knew she was leaving the house. My stomach was in knots, my heart twisted. There was nothing I could do to bring her back, nothing I could do to tell her I was not angry with her, that I still loved her.

It was true what I had told her. None of this was her doing. She had not asked me to reveal myself out of malicious need. She had purged poison from me. It was her way of helping me heal. As I lay in bed I wondered if the dreams would ever return again, or if like the nightmares of my father they would slowly fade.

"Almost good as new," Ruby said suddenly as she closed the tin and pushed her chair back from the bedside.

I gingerly flexed my fingers and discovered they were impossible to move. She had sewn and bandaged my hand without me realizing she had started to work on my injury. When I looked up she was wiping her hands off again.

"Pasteur would be proud," I mumbled as I sat upright.

She smiled and began folding unused linens. "I've assisted with surgery before," she answered.

"When you were what? Five, six years of age?"

"Last year when I worked for Monsieur Testan," she answered. "Would you like to eat lunch or would you rather I cleaned up the rest of the glass first?"

"Lunch. I'll clean up the glass."

"Oh, no, Monsieur. It's my duty—"

"Lunch, Mademoiselle," I said firmly. I turned away and stared out the window overlooking the front steps where Julia had been moments before.

As if my day could not get any worse I saw Mademoiselle Leach riding up the street on a bicycle, clutching that damned bonnet with all of her ribbons flowing behind her. She slowed when she neared the front of the house, caught her skirt on the fence and nearly toppled from the seat.

She rang the bell, that miserable woman, and left her bike up against the fence. "Alexandre, darling! Alex!" she called, still clutching to her hat. "Alex, hi, Alex!"

"That sounds like Hermine," Ruby said.

When I turned Ruby was standing directly behind me, which startled me but I said nothing of it. "Why is she here for Alex?" I asked.

"They are going for ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Yes, only for a few hours. And tomorrow is their day at the fair together."

Alex galloped like a horse toward the front door. I heard his stomping stop abruptly.

"Mademoiselle…Leach….you're…." he stopped. By the sound of his voice he was either stunned or horrified.

"Do you like it?" Hermine asked.

I heard Alex giggle. "It's very…curly."

"Does Mother know what you did?" Lisette gasped.

She shrieked with laughter. "All morning long I've had people showing me the same grin you have on your face, Alex. You too, Lisette."

Curiosity got the best of me, and I walked out into the hall with my hands clasped behind my back and saw Alex and Lisette standing side by side. Alex had his hand over his mouth and Lisette stared blankly toward the front door.

Hermine moved into sight and I knew then that Alex's reaction was one of shock and dismay.

"Monsieur Kire! How are you, Monsieur?"

"Good morning," I said, unable to do anything more than stare at her head.

She looked like a dark-haired dandelion when the bright yellow petals turn white and fly away.

It was absolutely horrifying.

"Would you like to join us for ice cream? Poor Lisette needs a date," Hermine offered. She looked past me and waved to Ruby. "We're going for ice cream. Monsieur Kire is coming with us."

I looked from Hermine to Lisette and Alex. My son looked rather annoyed, while Lisette gave a crooked grin.

"Not today," I answered.

"Meanie, what did you do?" Alex asked, still concerned.

Hermine touched the bottom of her hair and made an already frazzled mess somewhat worse. "Well, Alex, we ladies call it a Marcel wave. Lisette, ask your mother if we could try it on your hair as well."

Alex giggled and nudged Lisette with his elbow, which earned him a swat.

"Ru-by, Ru-by, Ru-by!"

A clap signaled the other Leach had come to my home.

"Hello, Archie," Ruby greeted him.

"Are you joining us for ice cream?" he asked.

Ruby shook her head. "I have lunch and cleaning."

Archie nodded back. "Another time, then."

She nodded back solemnly and turned, telling him she needed to start lunch. Once she was gone, Hermine, Lisette and Alex walked toward the front door, waving and telling me goodbye.

The door shut and the only one left was Archie, who took off his coat and gave me the impression that he was planning on staying without being asked.

"A word, Monsieur, if you would be so kind," Archie said.

I was in no mood to speak with him. The only thing on my mind was Julia. With a sigh, I started to tell him he would need to request my time at a later date, but he clapped before I said a word.

"It concerns Julie dear."

That was enough to garner my full attention.


	48. For a Chance at Happiness

I don't thank my beta readers nearly enough! A giant THANK YOU to Teresa and Hermine (yep, the real one, not the Leach). Without them I would be way off track. Teresa and Hermine are always nice enough to read, reread, and listen to me complain. Though I would like to think they do it out of kindness...they really just want Erik Kire (and that's like ear with a k).

Erik is in a sullen mood still. When he is feeling better his author's notes will resume.

* * *

Ghost48

While Ruby cleaned up the glass in my room, Meg brought lunch into the parlor for Archie and me. I had told Ruby several times to leave it and I would see to it myself, but she would have no part of that. She told me to rest my hand, eat so that it would heal, and enjoy Archie's company, which was a monumental task at best.

I still didn't understand what she saw in him, but telling by the way she blushed and batted her eyelashes she was clearly quite fond of him.

Archie, who had made himself quite at home, spared no time in casual conversation. He gestured at my hand, which I had rewrapped in clean linens, and said in one breath, "Did you cut yourself? You must have cut yourself, Monsieur Kire, you're simply going to have to be more careful with your writing hand. Can't have a genius disrupting his work now can we? No, I dare say we can't."

He sat far forward in his chair, with his elbow on the desktop while he ate and spoke at the same time. He was not my ideal meal companion, but since he looked me in the eye without a hint of revulsion over my appearance I swiftly grew tolerant of his presence. He would have been a good guest if he didn't feel the need to ramble on without taking a moment to pause and wait for an answer or interjection of some sort.

"You do know her brother is town, don't you?" Archie asked. "Arrived by train early this morning from what I've heard. Meanie said he was quite upset when he arrived. Do you know why? I'll tell you why. He expected Julia to greet him. He arrives days early and he expects her to jump at a moment's notice. It's already begun, that miserable man."

He slammed his fist on the table and turned away, running his free hand through his hair.

"Perhaps you have noticed how…unreasonable she's been lately. He's had her in knots! Knots! Well, of course you know. You see her more than I do, and what with the fair and those confounded phonographs….I'm honestly starting to hate those things."

I highly doubted I saw Julia more than he, but I nodded, despite him staring at several sketches and a painting by an artist named Paul Serusier whom Charles knew. It was the only reason we had the things in the house. They were interesting to look at, but half the time I didn't know what in the hell they were supposed to be. Symbolism, Charles said. I preferred objective, something clear cut and obvious rather than abstract

"I figured tomorrow I would pay a little visit to my good friend _Max_. Haven't seen him in ages," Archie muttered as he rubbed his knee. "All these years I had hoped to never see him again."

"Julia invited you to her home?"

"Oh, of course not. I doubt she will ask anyone over while her brother is in town. He always kept her tightly restrained just like their father did when she was younger. I would be surprised if Max allows her out of the house at all. He'll probably attempt to make her a proper woman and marry her off by sundown."

I rose slightly from my chair. "I beg your pardon?"

Archie shook his head. "I'm sure she's told you about him. For weeks he's been saying that he was going to pay a visit and then he would retract and tell her he would be here in a week or two. Then he would send word that his train was leaving in the morning. He had her constantly expecting him at any moment, never giving her a clear answer as to when he would arrive. She's been a nervous wreck for weeks. But I've never seen her quite like this before, have you?"

I shook my head. For weeks she had requested more time, more distance. And now perhaps I knew why she had refused to see me. There was a bitter seed germinating in my mind. I wanted to know why she didn't trust me enough to tell me that her brother was coming to Paris, though I understood the reason for her distance.

Julia knew the extent of my temper. Perhaps she knew how fiercely I would defend her if any man should think to cause her harm.

"How long will he be staying with her?" I asked Archie.

"Several days," he replied. He paused for a drink of lemonade and tapped his hand on the table. "Longer, if necessary."

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

Archie shrugged and casually turned back to face me. "He doesn't want Julie dear in that house alone."

"She's not alone," I said defensively. I gritted my teeth, unsure of whether or not that statement was completely true. She had followed me and I had turned my back on her. I wished I had given her a moment to speak, though at the same time I couldn't help but think she had requested weeks away rather than tell me her concerns. It irritated me that she expected me to trust her yet she would not trust me. It hurt and angered me that she could not share with me in the way she expected me to share with her.

"She's not married," Archie pointed out, snapping his finger at me.

His words insulted me. She wasn't married because she had insisted on a courtship, and our courtship had abruptly disintegrated because her brother was coming into town to marry her off. What was she so afraid of?

"How do you know all of this?"

"The hens."

"The…hens?"

"Sure, I hear Meanie, Meg and Julie dear discuss all sorts of strange things. Women, Monsieur Kire, I'll tell you they've changed since you and I were young bucks. They're…independent these days and it's dreadful. The things that leave their mouths are certainly not the proper things that left the lips of our mothers and grandmothers. First these….these bicycles and who knows what else? Split skirts, I tell you, the worst thing in the world. Before you know it every woman in Paris will be walking about in men's trousers. Where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere," I answered, half-listening to his inane tirade.

"Exactly," he agreed. He tossed his napkin onto his plate and gestured toward the painting. "Nice to see you display some of Alex's work, though I dare say I have no idea what it's supposed to be."

"It wasn't done by Alex. Charles bought it from a friend of his."

"Not too much money spent, I hope," Archie said as he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

I shrugged, having no idea what he had paid for it and not distressed over the cost.

"Well, Monsieur Kire, I thought it would be best if I informed you Max Falchetti was in town," Archie said as he pushed back from the desk. "I shall be off now. Lots of phonographs and tins to deliver to the fair."

I nodded, rising alongside him.

"If I were you, Monsieur Kire, I would march right over there, put a ring on her finger and not look back. That's what I would do," Archie said. He grabbed my shoulder and gave me a stern look, an expression that said we were comrades.

"She has asked that I not call upon her," I stated, though it was really none of his concern.

His face darkened but he nodded nonetheless. "He's gotten to her already," Archie replied. He slapped me hard on the arm and walked out the front door. "Good day to you, Monsieur Kire. Take care of that hand of yours."

Hardly, I thought as I turned, preparing to return to my room. I glanced down the hall and saw Meg watching me from the kitchen. She looked away when I acknowledged her and pretended to dust, though she didn't have a cloth in her hand so she used her fingertips.

"What has she said to you?" I asked Meg when I walked into the kitchen.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Julia."

"Julia? Concerning what?"

I snorted at her. "You stood in here and listened to our entire conversation. Don't act coy, Madame Lowry. What did Julia say about her brother?"

Meg suddenly looked nervous. She searched for something to occupy her hands but found nothing and crossed her arms.

"She's said he was coming to town."

"What else?"

"And…and she was not looking forward to his visit."

"Why?" I demanded.

"She would like to see you tomorrow—"

"If she is able to leave her home unnoticed. I heard. I heard everything. Tell me why she is afraid of him."

Meg sighed hard. She was loyal to Julia and I knew she had no intention of saying another word. I slammed my good fist down on the table.

"Why does she fear him?"

"Because she was worried about you," Meg blurted out.

"In what way?" I asked through my teeth, my anger pulsing through my veins.

Meg started to turn away. When I saw her from the side I was reminded of her condition. With a sigh I held my tongue, knowing if I questioned her further it would only cause her undue stress. As this was her first child, I backed away slowly, letting her be.

"It's not you she's worried about," Meg said quietly. She glanced at me before I walked from the kitchen. "She's worried for you."

I retired to my room with a heavy mind, feeling restless yet exhausted. Through the open window I could hear Lisette and Alex playing with Bessie in the back garden. Charles was outside with them, as was Meg.

I started to look out the window for Madeline when she knocked on my door.

"May I speak with you?" she asked.

"The door is unlocked," I answered.

She appeared almost instantly, her face looking haggard, her hair mussed. "I want to speak with you regarding Madame Seuratti," she said.

"It's unnecessary," I mumbled.

"After what happened today I believe it is."

"Nothing happened," I snapped. "Nothing that was Julia's doing."

"Erik, you don't even realize it, do you? You don't understand when someone is being cruel to you—"

"The hell I don't. I know exactly what it feels like when someone is being cruel to me, Madeline. I know exactly what it feels like. Exactly."

"You think she cares for you."

"She came for me," I said suddenly, storming toward Madeline. "She came here for me."

"She's manipulating you. This is a game to her, Erik, she draws you in and then pushes you away," Madeline said, though her voice shook and I knew she didn't believe her own words.

"I told her everything," I said through my teeth. "Everything, Madeline, everything and still she came back here to speak with me. She didn't run away, she didn't lock her door or die or anything. She came to me. And I turned my back on her."

"What do you mean you told her everything?"

"She knows me," I said quietly as I turned away, too ashamed of myself to look her in the eye. "She knows who I am. Not an opera ghost, not a phantom. She knows who I am. She knows who Erik is now."

She was the only one who knew me. Four decades of existence and I had one person who knew me.

"For Alex's sake I want you to make the right decision, Erik. You cannot remain locked away in your room again. You cannot return to eating alone in here. I will not…." She caught herselfmaking demandsand sighed. "I don't want to see you made unhappy."

"She makes me happy," I said. "She's the only woman who will ever make me happy."

"There may be others," Madeline said with a shrug. "Perhaps if you were more comfortable in a year or two you would venture outside and find a very nice woman to care for you. If you left the house during the day and took a walk to the park, or if perhaps you dined at a cafe one evening you would find that there are many nice women, nice and caring women..."

"Madeline, look at me and tell me you honestly believe I will find anyone willing to give me a chance."

She was an optimist, I knew.All of my life I wanted just one person to do more than stare at me in revulsion. One, sincere smile, one kind word offered. When I was a child I wanted to be held, but the older I grew the more I understood that it would never happen to me. Year by year I wanted less, until finally as an adult I expected nothing. Dreams and desires were the seeds of many fruitful disappointments.

"I'm forty-two years old,the majority of people Iknow live within my house,and my appearance…" I told Madeline. I stopped and shook my head, unable to say another word. She knew how I felt about my apperance, how I had spoken words fitting for a child.

My appearance damned into solitude, granted me pity enough for two nights of intimacy with a woman who did not care for me, and left me devastated when she abandoned me and took away my son. It was only by a miracle that I had Julia, who never cringed when she touched my face.

"It's not a game. I can see it in her eyes. It's not a game, Madeline."

Madeline released a sigh of disappointment. "You have done so much to become a better man. I don't want her to extinguish this in you."

"She won't," I said sternly. "If it wasn't for her, I would be dead."

Madeline looked at me sharply but asked no further questions and made no other attempts to change my mind. She took my injured hand in hers and shook her head.

"I can't stop thinking about what you said," she said quietly. "And it breaks my heart."

She continued to hold my hand gently as she touched my cheek. Her eyes pressed closed, a tear rolling down her face.

"I only want you to be happy."

She kissed me on the cheek and wiped her eyes, reluctantly releasing my hand. I always knew she cared for me but I had never known how strongly she felt. It was a strange thing, an unfamiliar sensation to be protected and mothered. I looked at Madeline and wished I had been born her son. Everything would have been different.

"I've only ever wanted you to be happy," she said. "And I don't see why you allow her to do this to you."

"She is trying to help," I replied.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps she isn't acting maliciously, but still….she should know better."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped. "She should be afraid of me?"

"No, she should know to treat you with more respect."

I shrugged and folded my arms, taking great care to avoid pressure on my injured hand. "Madeline, I think she wants me to treat her with greater respect," I answered wearily. "You of all people should agree with her rules for a proper courtship."

Madeline grunted, clearly understanding I had made up my mind. By the look in her eyes I knew she was not convinced but she would not argue with me. She would respectfully hold her tongue and pray for the best.

"I have always been very fond of Madame Seuratti," Madeline said as she reached the door. "She has a very lovely daughter, she has always been friends with Meg, and…and I know her husband was…demanding. I don't want to see either of you suffer." She turned one last time and looked me in the eye. "You have both suffered long enough."

She was right. We had both suffered enough. AsMadeline left, I knew what I had to do to grasp for a chance at happiness.


	49. Unwilling to Wait

Ghost49

Aria made a valiant attempt to apologize for biting my thumb by joining me later in the afternoon. My head was pounding from the combination of stress and lack of sleep, so I took the liberty of locking my door and napping a while.

My hand throbbed with resonating heat. Twice I removed the bandage and examined the wound, my concerns growing that an infection had set in. It was impossible for me to tell if something was wrong. Hitting the glass had made my hand swell, and the swelling coupled with the open wound made for a hideous sight. The area around the stitches was quite tender, as I had expected.

Ruby knocked on my door around four in the afternoon and entered carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

"How does your hand feel?"

"Like hell's fire is in my palm."

She furrowed her brow as she set the tray down. "Let me see."

I held out my hand and watched as she unwound the bandage and examined the wound, taking great care not to touch the stitched area.

"It doesn't appear infected," she said. "Though I will change the dressing for you, as there is dried blood on the wrapping, and with how deep the wound is you should keep it clean."

I nodded as she rose and left the room. With the door left ajar Alex was drawn to it as though there were a magnet pulling him into my room. He clopped up the stairs and shoved the door fully open.

"Eeew," he said as his eyes narrowed on my hand. "You did cut yourself, just as Grand-mere said."

It was too late to hide my hand but I still attempted to cover it with my blanket.

"The mirror fell on you?" Alex asked as he cautiously stepped forward and plopped down in Ruby's chair. "And Ru-by cared for your hand?"

I cringed when he said Ruby's name. My son had become a miniature Archie Leach. That would not do at all.

"I'll be fine," I said brusquely.

He completely ignored me. "May I see it?"

"No."

"It's good practice."

"Good practice for what?" I asked, thinking of how he had once asked the Vicomte to donate his body to science for mummification. If I allowed him to see my hand I expected he would ask me to let him amputate my fingers.

"If I decide I want to be a physician I'll need patients."

"My patience is wearing thin, Alex. You should be studying. You cannot practice medicine if you're not downstairs learning."

"I don't want to practice medicine."

"If you want to be a doctor—"

"Then I won't need to practice. I'll know what to do."

Talking to him gave me a worse headache. I nodded, refusing to run in circles with him. "Go downstairs and study at once. I'll not have you wandering about like a vagrant."

He sighed and rolled his head back as though my words had physically wounded him. "I will," he groaned. "May I wait for Ruby to return?"

"Absolutely not."

He hung his head, clasping his hands in his lap.

"I thought you and Mademoiselle Hermine were courting."

"We were. Until we went for ice cream," he said sullenly.

He didn't look me in the eye as he told me his sordid tale of being forced to watch several young men approach, take a seat, and entertain his lady. He told me how Hermine giggled so much that she snorted again, just as she did at dinner, and that she kept batting her eyelashes and primping her hair.

"It was terrible," he moaned. "I had to sit and talk to Lisette the entire time."

"How dreadful," I said dryly.

He stuck out his lip and pushed himself from his seat, finding no sympathy from me. "I'll find Monsieur Lowry," he moped.

He left, passing Ruby in the doorway. She patted him on the head, which earned her a glare for patronizing him. With a smile she kissed him on the forehead and warned him not to eat the pie sitting on the table.

She lit and then turned up both lamps on my desk before drawing the curtains back so she could see the wound better. I held my breath as she prodded at the stitches and dabbed away the blood and puss gathering around the sutures.

"Where did you learn so much about medicine?" I asked as she cleaned the laceration.

"I often helped Madame Testan," she mumbled.

"She was a nurse?" I asked.

I had no idea anyone had been foolish enough to marry the ignorant bastard.

"No," she answered.

I waited a moment for her to elaborate but she said nothing more. When the boric acid dried she wrapped my hand again, taking great care to avoid putting additional pressure on the injury.

"Were all the servants trained to tend wounds?" I asked, hoping she would continue.

"No, only two of us," Ruby replied. She glanced at me again. "Monsieur, have you ever had the opportunity to meet Monsieur Testan?"

"No, I have not." I waited a moment for her to say something more but she went about straightening the room. "I have heard he's a recluse."

She grunted, brushing her hands on her apron. "There are many stories concerning Monsieur Testan. I have heard rumors that he developed leprosy. The other day I overheard someone say they thought he was probably dead, and that the reviews in the paper are written by someone else."

I nodded. His death, fictive or not, didn't strike me as much of a loss, seeing as he owned an opera house yet was entirely ignorant about music.

"Of course, as you probably know, he's always had a sharp tongue. While I was under his employ I learned that in Paris, Prague, Vienna, London—wherever there were musicians—there were people who wanted to believe in the rumors."

Ruby had been employed in my home for several weeks but she was still very much a stranger, one who I could not question much further without appearing quite uncouth.

When she finished rewrapping my hand, I rose from the bed and returned to my desk. I sat for a moment and considered taking up a pen but wasn't sure if I could close my hand, which was still burning, so I settled for gazing out the window and sampling another cookie.

For the first time I saw how dark the sky was over Julia's home. The cool early June breeze smelled faintly of rain, and the sensation against my face made me shiver.

"He had health problems, I assume? He's a man of fifty, is he not? Or is he older?"

"Older, I think," she said.

"Deteriorating health is expected," I mumbled.

"I suppose that's true. Though, Monsieur Kire, I honestly didn't see Monsieur Testan that often when I worked for him."

She knew I was prying but I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Why didn't you see him?"

Ruby looked taken aback by my question but she shrugged. "He is a very private person," she answered. She glanced around the room and nodded, satisfied by her tidying. "How does your hand feel now?"

"I suspect it will hurt for quite some time," I answered. My shame would last much longer. Wounded pride never quite heals correctly.

"I suspect you're right. Well, if you don't need anything for the moment I shall start dinner."

"Fine," I replied, merely glancing at her.

She smiled back at me. "Consider yourself very fortunate, Monsieur. It could have been much worse," Ruby said before she left. "When Monsieur Testan would fall he often hurt himself much more severely."

"Fall? He was…prone to fits?"

"Good afternoon, Monsieur," Ruby replied as she shut the door.

After Ruby departed to start dinner I locked the bedroom door and stared at the wall, contemplating whether or not I wished to enter the cellar. It had been weeks since I had ventured into its dark, musty confines. Before my stay with Julia, I had spent hour upon hour in the dirt-wall cellar hunched over a chest of rubbish saved from the opera house.

The contents of the cellar no longer interested me. What I wanted was only a hundred feet away from me.

I found the concealed button on the wall with ease and gently slid the door open. With a deep breath I took the lamp from the desk and entered the cellar.

Even if Julia could not see me, I had to see her.


	50. The First Glimpse of Max Falchetti

_Please check out the story titled 'Giver of Life' for another short story about me. I apologize for my absence from doing my author's notes. I have not been feeling well since my incident with the mirror._

_Though I may feel better if you review the chapter…. (Gabrina insists that I say that)._

Ghost50

Being underground was like returning to an abandoned house. Though I had no intention of traveling to the opera house, the hair on the back of my neck pricked as I walked along in the tunnel illuminated by my single candle. It was strange to be beneath the earth again, listening to thunder rolling overhead.

When I was under my own house, from my side of the cellar and from the tunnel that meandered toward the opera house, I could hear everything spoken in my home. In theory the same would hold true for Julia's home, which stood above the secret walkway.

I counted my steps until I was certain I was standing beneath her house. There I waited, pacing back and forth until I heard voices.

"You look tired," a man said in Italian.

My jaw tensed as I held my breath.

"I didn't sleep well," Julia answered.

A long silence followed and I thought they had left the room. Disappointed, I started to return home.

"You couldn't fool me when you were a child and you can't fool me now, Julia."

"Max, I don't want to argue with you—"

"We're not arguing. Tell me why you look so terrible."

I wanted to scream at him for berating her. She did not look terrible. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"I've had trouble sleeping. It will pass," she said quickly.

"Is it a man?"

I could hear her sigh. "No, it's nothing. Why don't you sit down with Lisette and I will make you something to eat."

"What is his name?"

My heart stuttered. I jumped, startled by the sound of him perhaps hitting the table or the wall with his hand. If he had hit Julia I would have torn through the floor and strangled him. I was already prepared to bolt down the tunnel, race to her home and break down her door if he so much as raised his voice to her again.

"Max, I want to enjoy your company. I don't want to argue with you."

"You should be ashamed of yourself. I've come here to help you and you can't be honest with me, with your own brother."

Again, silence. I had never hated being beneath the ground as much as I did in that moment when I could hear Julia's voice but do nothing to help her.

"I don't need your help," she said sharply.

"How long will your funds last, Julia? How long can you maintain this lifestyle?"

"Long enough."

Her brother scoffed. "How long will your funds last, Julia? A year, two years at the most and then where will you be? Think about Lisette. Will you marry her off when she's twelve? Thirteen, perhaps?"

"We're fine," Julia said. Her voice had lost any hint of dignity.

"Without me, you will be on the streets of Paris, picking rags. Do you understand that, Julia? Do you understand what this means for your daughter?"

"I've done well for the past five years," Julia replied. "Lisette will want for nothing."

I heard Max walking around the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Your name is not tarnished in Italy, Julia. Sell this damned house, come with me, and I will find someone suitable for you. I have several friends and business partners who may be willing to—"

"No, I am not leaving Paris. This is my home, Max. I have my friends here—"

"Who is he? Hmmm, who is this man? Is it Archie?" Max demanded.

"You know how I feel about Archie."

"Yes, and I know how he felt about you."

"He treated me more like his sister than you ever did," Julia spoke through her teeth. "He stood up for me when you did nothing. He was the one who protected me."

"Protected you from what?"

She didn't reply. My heart sank, my lip trembling as I stood and wished to be beside her.

"That was his own damned fault, you realize that, don't you?" Max asked. "If he hadn't been in the way he would still have two legs."

"How dare you say such a terrible thing! If Archie hadn't been there….don't you ever say such a thing again, Max."

My mind reeled. I braced myself against the crudely hewn wall, my heart pounding so loudly I could scarcely hear what was being said.

"Louis wouldn't have killed you," Max said quietly. "I wouldn't have allowed it."

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going to lie down for a while," Julia said suddenly. "You should go for a walk."

"It looks like it's going to rain," Max answered.

"Then stay inside," Julia snapped. Her shoes shuffled along the floor above my head. My need for her was so great that I followed her as she moved from the room.

"I thought you were going to lie down."

"I am. In the guest room," Julia answered.

She was thinking of me, I knew. That was why she was retreating to the guest room, to the place where I loved her and hurt her, to the place she came to know me on the outside and within.

Their voices grew more distant. In my escalating irritation I hoped Max would take a walk in the rain and be struck by lightning. I wanted him out of her house so that I could return to her at once.

I was in knots by the time I closed the hidden door behind me. My hands were shaking, my head pounding. I wanted to know the meaning of Max's words and how Archie had lost his leg. From what I gathered he had saved Julia from Louis.

My respect for Archie grew as I paced back and forth across my room, nostrils flared and legs stiff. I wanted to see Julia that very moment and tell her I had heard everything, but knew better. She would be horrified if she knew I stood beneath her house and listened to her and her brother, but I felt no regret.

Just as strongly as she needed to know me, I needed to know her brother and his intentions. Everything I knew of him thus far made me despise him.

I may have walked to her kitchen and killed Max if Charles hadn't been wheeling himself down the hall toward my kitchen. He was struggling, as he often did, and by the look on his face he was frustrated with the time it took for him to maneuver from the library and study to the kitchen and dining room.

"Charles," I said with a nod to acknowledge him.

"Monsieur Kire, how are you this afternoon?" Charles asked. "How is your hand faring? Meg and Ruby said it could have been much worse."

I turned my hand palm up to show him the bandage. "It seems I will survive."

"Very good, sir," Charles replied.

The longer I knew Charles the more convinced I became that he could be killed, resurrected and still manage a smile in the end. The man never seemed as affected by his troubles or his condition as I thought he should be. It was as though losing his mobility had been only a slight inconvenience rather than a devastating occurrence. I envied Charles for his perseverance.

"Madame Giry tells me the mirror was quite old. You are fortunate you didn't cut yourself worse when it fell over."

"Very true," I replied.

Charles had a nervous look in his eyes, and I suspected he knew what had happened but was too polite to say anything regarding the incident.

"Good day to you, sir. I'm glad you're feeling better," Charles said. He cleared his throat and wheeled forward, slowly passing me. "Alfred and Douglas are calling tomorrow, sir. If you would care to join us one evening I'm certain they would be fascinated to hear your views of music today."

"I will consider," I said with my back to him.

By the time I walked into the kitchen I was uncertain of my intentions. The sun was starting to set, which brought a barrage of new ideas into my head. I wanted to see Julia. I _would_ see Julia no matter what happened. Since I knew she was in the guest room I didn't need to call at her front door. I could walk through the back gate and peer through the window.

And scare the holy hell out of her when she saw my face pressed up against her window. I groaned to myself as I stared at the back door.

"Mother said no more sweets," Meg commented from her place at the table.

I hadn't noticed her until I turned to see her plucking the feathers from a headless goose.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mother said to give you the bowl of Tuscan melon if you were ravenous before dinner," Meg murmured. She glanced up before taking up a cleaver. I turned away as she chopped off the bird's feet that were dangling over the edge of the table.

"What is Ruby making for dessert? Where is Ruby?" I asked.

"She took a recipe to Hermine," Meg said without looking up.

There was a bowl of raspberries on the countertop and a shallow pan of chocolate on the stove. Bread baking in the oven overpowered the smell of dessert in the air, making my discovery a pleasant surprise.

"You'll burn yourself," Meg said.

I nearly had my finger in the melted chocolate when she spoke. With a sigh I reached for a spoon.

"Mother said no more sweets," Meg repeated as she pushed her chair away from the table. She spoke quite loudly, which I realized was merely for her mother to hear. She approached the stove and stirred the chocolate sauce. "I'll send something up if you wish," she said quietly.

"No, I am paying Julia a visit."

Meg promptly dropped the spoon on the stove and stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"But her brother—"

"I don't give a damn about her brother. I want to see her tonight," I replied. I clenched my good hand. If it came down to a fight I would have use of only one hand, which put me at a severe disadvantage.

"Perhaps you should take Alex with you," Meg suggested.

"Why would I do such a thing?"

Meg turned away quickly and folded her arms. "I merely think it would be advisable if you had someone with you."

"No, I wish to see her alone."

With that I started toward the front of the house with every intention of taking my coat and hat, walking around the block, pounding on her door and insist that she marry me the following day.

"Do you honestly think that's a good idea?" Meg blurted out. She caught herself far too late and slapped her hand over her mouth.

Given my less than immaculate history of judgment I knew why she questioned me, but her words still irritated me. I glared at her.

"Are you needed in the kitchen?"

Meg was white as a sheet. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Come with me."


	51. Family

In the last chapter I requested that Meg accompany me to Julia's home.

Ghost51

"No, thank you," Meg said politely as she stepped away and grabbed her apron with both hands.

She kept her back to me as she returned to the table and began ripping feathers from the goose on the table.

"Excuse me?"

"I would rather not accompany you," she mumbled without looking up.

Her insolence aggravated me, but I knew I couldn't throw her over my shoulder and demand that she walk out into the rain with me. She left me absolutely dumbfounded, with my arms akimbo and jaw set. I had no choice but stand there in my kitchen, in my house, and wait for her to decide whether or not she would elaborate.

I had absolutely no patience. I waited two heartbeats before I stormed over to the table.

"Why not?" I demanded.

She ignored me and moved her chair into the corner, her eyes trained on the dead bird. It was juvenile of her but highly effective in worsening my dismal mood. All I wanted was to see Julia. Since I had walked into the underground tunnel and stood beneath her house the only thing on my mind was seeing her and telling her that we were going to marry at once. I was in such a mood that I would not tolerate any answer other than her acceptance of my proposal and an immediate wedding.

"You suggested I have someone accompany me and now you refuse. Why are you doing this? Answer me at once!"

Meg, who normally did whatever I asked without question, pretended I wasn't standing in the room. For her to stand up to me was monumental, respectable, and highly irritating. The longer she sat there the more time I had to reconsider my rash plans.

"Madame Lowry," I said sternly as I towered over her.

"I don't want you to end up half-dead again," she blurted out as she turned further away from me. "And that's all that will happen. You're going to walk over there, demand to see her, and you and your injured hand…" she stopped and shook her head, peering up at me with her child-like eyes.

"You're concerned?" I asked as I took a step back.

"Yes?"

"About me?"

Little Meg, the child who thought I would steal her away and make her into soup, was concerned for my safety. I didn't know what to say to her. I still rarely had conversations with Meg despite our silent agreement to put more effort into a familial relationship.

I cared for her, just as I cared for her mother, who had always been so kind to me. But I never expected Meg to have any affection for me whatsoever. I assumed she would treat me with measured respect, approach me with impersonal conversations, and that would be the extent of our relationship.

"Of course I'm concerned," she said quietly. "You're…the head of the household." She hesitated, forcing her eyes to look into mine. "You're family."

I stood over her for a moment with my arms crossed and eyes trained on the goose's feet and pile of feathers.

"Perhaps you should wait until after dinner," she suggested.

"You haven't even started dinner yet."

"It's in the oven. This is for tomorrow," Meg said. "We will sit down to supper in a half hour. Then, if you still feel the need—"

"I will."

"If you would like me to come with you then I will. After dinner," she said meekly.

I had a feeling that if I had demanded she accompany me that moment she would have retrieved her cloak and followed me to Julia's home. However, when I looked at her I no longer felt the need to storm out my front door and pound on Julia's. Meg was correct. It wasn't wise for me to dash to her house. My emotions were running rampant, my blood still boiling from the conversation I overheard. It would be foolish to tell Julia all I had heard and to make demands, especially after the morning we had spent together.

I sullenly nodded. With a sigh of dismay I told Meg I would be in the library and trudged off alone with my mangled thoughts.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I needed a plan to see Julia again, a civil, deliberate idea to meet with her again and demand that she marry me. I sighed and closed my eyes. I had demanded that Christine marry me, and that culminated in nothing short of a catastrophe. No, I decided, I needed to give her reasons why she should marry me, ask her sincerely, and hope that she would see past my wrong-doings and agree.

My first list had been mediocre at best. The only two things on that pathetic list were love and longevity. I hoped that I could convince her that we had weathered a storm together, that we had walked through hell. If we could survive this…

In an instant I made up my mind, rose from my chair and gently pulled the door open. I held my breath and listened a moment to make certain no one was coming down the hall. The only sound was Alex telling his sordid tale of lunch with Mademoiselle Leach. As he rambled on, I walked swiftly down the hall, took my cloak from the hook and opened the front door, finding it was still raining.

There were several umbrellas in the closet but I couldn't risk opening the door and drawing attention to myself. Fortunately, it seemed I would face only a light drizzle.

I walked into the night and felt something brush past my leg before the door closed. A flash of lightning revealed Aria darting down the stairs. Before I could catch her or call out to her, she disappeared across the street.

Aggravated, I started across the street after that damned cat. I had kept her indoors since the day I had found her, as I feared whoever abused her would find her again and succeed in killing her the next time. It wasn't like her to dash out the front door. She never showed interest in escaping, even when she followed Bessie to the back door. Her little tail became a chimney sweep's brush, her back arched at the sight of the outdoors.

I searched for her for what felt like a lifetime. The wind pelted rain onto my face and neck, dampening my shirt and waistcoat. I loudly whispered, calling her name repeatedly until I saw her sprint across the street.

A man shouted and cursed at her as she raced past him. I saw him lower his umbrella as he reached for a rock, preparing to pelt her. He gave up when he lost sight of her, which was a damned good thing for him.

"Damned animals," he muttered.

My God, it was Max. Every muscle in my body froze as I stared at his shadowy form

"Another cat?" a second deep voice questioned.

I lingered on my side of the street, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness.

"Yes, I believe so, Henri."

"I drowned a whole litter several weeks ago. They seem to be resurrecting themselves and multiplying," the man Max called Henri replied.

"We poison them in Milan," Max answered as they walked along.

I stayed across the street a moment then quietly followed, keeping well out of sight but within earshot.

Henri grunted. "Are you taking your sister back to Milan?"

Max sighed. "Whether she likes it or not. She's hiding something from me, Henri. I've been campaigning for years, telling her she needs to return to Italy with her daughter. She's hell-bent on staying here and I don't know why. It's not right for a widowed woman and her daughter to live alone in this city." His pace slowed and he turned to the man beside him. "I'm staying here for ten weeks. When I return to Italy my sister will be with me."

I watched as they continued down the street. My blood was boiling as I turned on my heel and blindly stormed toward Julia's house. I would be damned if Max or anyone else thought they could take her away from me.


	52. Confessions in the Rain

_Our apologies on the delay. As you can see, it's a rather long chapter. Thank you for your patience. Feedback is appreciated. _

Ghost52

Before I rounded the corner someone pulled on my cloak and drew me back by the neck. With my left hand balled into a fist I turned, hoping to hammer Max in the face and drive his nose into his brain. I didn't want to strangle him. I wanted to make him suffer for thinking he could steal Julia from me.

"What are you doing?" Meg panted.

"Going for a walk," I replied through my teeth as she released her grip.

She had an umbrella in one hand—the hand that had grabbed hold of my cloak—and Aria in the other. The cat's gray hair was spiked on her head, her ears flat. She was making a terrible noise as she stared at me with her one eye.

"Your cat was howling at the back door," she said, lifting Aria as though I hadn't noticed the cat tucked up against her chest. "I think she was scared. She never goes outside unless Bessie is with her."

I had no idea the cat saw the outdoors, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss the history of Aria's excursions through Paris.

"Take her back inside. I will return momentarily."

"What if her brother sees you?" Meg asked, shifting her weight.

It didn't surprise me that she knew what I was doing, but it did surprise me that she dared to voice her question.

"He's out for the night," I answered, thinking she was damned fortunate I was being civil toward her and her meddling ways.

"Were you…spying?"

"He was walking down the street," I answered. That was as much as I was willing to divulge. "Good night, Madame."

I started to turn but she stepped forward and tucked the cat beneath her arm to free up her hand. When I stopped she hesitated, her hand awkwardly raised to chest level. Her lips were parted but she said nothing. Her eyes were filled with such consternation that she didn't need to say a word.

I lowered my eyes from her face and stared at the cat who looked mad as hell at me as rain dripped onto her face. "I am the last person in the world you should worry about," I said quietly as I looked at Aria's empty eye socket.

"Because you can take care of yourself?"

"No," I said. There was more but I didn't care to elaborate. It crossed my mind to tell her that I was not worth her prayers or worry but I refrained. Slowly I nodded and stepped back. "Good night."

To my surprise Meg didn't argue or attempt to accompany me.

"I'll keep dinner in the oven," she said before she turned and took Aria with her. I waited on the corner until they disappeared inside before I rounded the corner and wrapped my cloak tightly about my shoulders, my pace quickening as I saw Julia's home.

Her front door opened when I was no more than twenty paces away. My breath caught in my throat, my heart stuttering in my chest as I realized I had no idea what I would say to her.

My pace slowed and I watched as she shut the door behind her and raise her umbrella. She looked perfect with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a simple hat covering her head. It was a tepid June evening, but the wind was blowing so hard that my first thought was fear she would catch a chill.

She saw me immediately and froze, her hand still wrapped around the doorknob, the umbrella slipping from her shoulder. I suddenly felt foolish walking to her home. It was presumptuous of me to assume she would agree to see me when I had told her goodbye.

My original intention to demand that she marry me faded away. I didn't want to cajole her as I had done with Christine. I wanted her to meet my eye and fall in love with me.

I wanted the intangible. She couldn't love me, not after what I had done.

"Erik," I heard her say, though it was impossible to judge if she said my name in joy or dread.

I stepped forward until I was near enough to see her tear-stained face. Once our eyes met I stopped, my chest heaving and hands trembling, wanting to hold her again. We had only been apart for several hours but it had been a hellish parting. I wanted to tell her that I regretted what I had said to her.

"I need to speak with you," I said as rain continued to fall in my eyes. "I need to tell you something….something more….something I should have already said to you."

"Erik—"

"Listen to me," I said desperately as I walked closer, my hands straight at my sides. "Please, if only for a moment I need to speak to you."

"You shouldn't be out here," she said. She scolded me, though her voice was gentle, her eyes soft as she stared back.

"I…I know."

"Max is here," she said softly.

"I don't care," I replied. I heard her gasp and I frowned. "Julia, I needed to see you."

She started to shake her head but I stepped forward and lifted my hand, begging her to give me one moment of her time, one moment to rectify my wrongs or at least make peace and part ways with her.

"Erik, you don't understand…" her voice trailed off and she covered her mouth with both hands.

"I know what you wanted this morning," I said, my eyes locked on hers. The rain saturated my cloak and slowly worked its way into the threads of my waistcoat and shirt. My teeth chattered, my eyelashes beaded with raindrops. I stepped forward cautiously, unsure of whether or not she would accept my affection.

"I know what you needed to hear from me this morning, when we were in the guest room. I know why you needed to know everything, why you asked me to tell you, why you sat and you listened and you…you stayed. I know that now. I understand that."

She nodded slowly, her hands leaving her face, arms returning to her side.

I took another step forward. "I know what you wanted….and you had every right to know it, even if it means….even if…." I couldn't bring myself to say that our years together had come to an end. "You're the only one, did you know that? You're the only one who knows who I am. All these years I think I've always been a stranger to everyone. I was never real. I was never a real person from the time my parents put the grave marker behind the house…"

A sob escaped her and I thought she would fall to her knees. She wandered around a moment, her body swaying from side to side. Her actions paralyzed me, alarmed me to the very core of my soul. I swallowed hard, clenching both fists despite the overwhelming pain searing through my right hand.

Tears slid down her cheeks, one after another in an endless trail. I had upset her again. After my attempts to make amends I had only caused her further grief.

"Please don't cry," I begged. "I don't want to see you cry."

"Oh, Erik, I wanted to see you all day. I didn't mean to hurt you. That was never my intention; that was never what I wanted."

"You didn't hurt me. You've…you've helped me, Julia. Those dreams, those nightmares will never return. I know they will never return because of you, because of how you listened to me. You've made me real. All these years of being a ghost and you've…you've given me flesh, I think, and a heart."

"You've always had a heart," she cried. "I know you've always had a good heart. You've been so good to me and now Madeline thinks I've tormented you all these years, all these years we've been together. She'll never speak to me again."

"No, that's not true. Madeline understands now. She understands what you did for me, what you mean to me."

She nodded but her eyes showed that she didn't believe me. Julia and Madeline had been friends before I knew Julia. What happened between them in the morning was a wound that would bleed for quite some time.

"Erik—" she said again.

"Julia…please just listen. I know I have done terrible things, horrible things in my lifetime." I took another step forward, my insides aching, my hands tingling to simply hold her again, to feel her warmth and know I hadn't lost her.

"Erik, please—"

"But I have been trying very hard—very hard—to be a good person, to be a better person. I want to change. I don't want to be, that, that, that person from Persia. I swear to you, I want to be…I want to be what you and Alex deserve, and what Madeline thinks I am, and even Charles and Meg as well. I want to be good to you."

She nodded, her eyes red, her hair dampened by the rain. She was still listening to me, a perfect, patient little angel willing to listen to me. All of my life I wanted someone to talk to, to treat me as a human being and not a monster. I looked at Julia and wanted to weep, to embrace her and kiss her and thank her for letting me talk to her, for looking me in the eye when I was without a mask, for searching my face and not shunning me for my

appearance.

"I want to be good to you so that you'll….I want you to be in love with me."

"Oh, Erik," she said. She wiped her nose with a handkerchief before dabbing at her eyes.

"But I need…I need something. I need you to trust me, and to believe in me, and to…I need you to have faith in me, faith that I can change."

"I do trust you," she said, tears streaming down her face. "And I have faith in you. I've always had faith in you."

She dropped the umbrella in the grass and came to me, burying her face against my chest. "I don't want to ever hurt you," she cried. "I don't ever want you to cut yourself again."

"It wasn't…" I didn't know how to tell her what had happened, how I had wanted to remove the right side of my face, how it hurt in the deepest confines of my heart to know there was nothing I could do to change what was on the outside. "It wasn't intentional. I know what it looked like, but…and it wasn't your fault."

"Erik—"

I cupped her head in my hands and looked into her eyes, into the face I thought I had lost forever. "Julia, what I said today…on the stairs….when I told you…"

She pressed her fingers to my lips. Through her glassy eyes and blotchy, tear-stained face she smiled, the sweetest expression I had ever seen.

"I know. And now I need you to listen to me," she said. She sighed and took a deep, ragged breath. "This morning I kept asking you to stay and you wouldn't listen to me. Please listen to me now. Please just stop a moment and hear what I have to say to you."

I didn't think I wanted to hear what she had to say but I nodded. I would give her that because I loved her. I would let her finally tell me that we could not marry, that she trusted me and loved me but couldn't stay, not after what had happened.

I readied myself, telling myself over and over that I would respect her wishes. I wanted her to be happy, and if it meant she would be content I would not trouble her.

Julia placed both hands against my face. "You've told me everything and I've told you nothing. It wasn't intentional…but…oh, Erik, will you please come inside?"

"Your brother—"

"He went for a drink—"

"I saw him," I blurted out. "Only a moment ago, I saw him."

Her lips parted, her face turning pale at my words.

"The cat ran out the front door. I went after her and I saw him on the opposite side of the street. I didn't…confront him," I added quickly. "But…I heard what he said. About you, about his plans for you."

She continued to stare at me, her lips trembling. "He'll be gone for a while," she said at last. "He has…friends…he was meeting for a drink."

My hope was that he would be so drunk he would drown in the sewer, though I didn't say a word to Julia. I nodded, shivering in the night.

"He should return in two hours, perhaps three," she said as she turned back to her front door.

She glanced at me as we passed through the doorway and I saw the fear in her eyes. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I shed my cloak and handed it to Julia.

"We have an hour, perhaps an hour and a half," she said quietly. Her face was still terribly pale, her lips turned down in an unfamiliar frown. "And then…we only have an hour."


	53. Unheard

Ghost53

She was nervous.

Julia wrung her hands as she walked in small, fretful steps toward the sitting room. She paused in the doorway and looked at me, her lips pursed, her face still pale. She ran the back of her hand along her cheeks and stared straight ahead.

"I called to you," she said with her back turned toward me.

I stood behind her, my arms at my sides, feet shoulder's width apart. I didn't know what she meant or what I should say, so I remained silent.

"Perhaps a hundred times," she continued slowly, her voice low and trembling. "And you never responded. Not once, not to my voice, not to my touch. I thought….I thought I had killed you."

She glanced over her shoulder at me and pursed her lips again. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"This morning," I answered cautiously.

Julia nodded and turned away again, stepping toward the window where she stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

"The Sultana," she said, the words spit from her mouth. She said nothing more for a long time after that. I stared at Julia's back, at her hands, at her thin wrists, at the curve of her hips.

I didn't want to discuss the Sultana. My feet involuntarily moved backward until my shoulder touched the door. Our conversation concerning my past had come to a close and if she wished to pursue the topic it would be alone, as I could not bear to think of those years.

"She was very cruel," Julia said softly. "To you."

Her words surprised me. "She…held sway over the jails," I said, unsure of what to say.

"She used you," Julia said as she turned to face me. "She took your mask and made you walk before the prisoners…to humiliate you. Didn't she?"

That had never crossed my mind. Ever. I hadn't wanted to relinquish my mask but it was required, and no one denied the Sultana. I left it behind and always walked beside her, my eyes cast down, my mind turned to a cave where the thousands of taunts echoed endlessly for hours and hours after I returned to my chamber and sat alone, restless and numb.

I stood with Julia and felt along the wall with my left hand until I found the doorway. A strange feeling swept over me, like my insides were separating from my outside. The skin on my arms rising in goose bumps, my heart thundering.

Julia started to cry again. "I know you aren't proud of your work there. I could see it in your eyes when you spoke." She paused, controlling herself until she could speak again. "When you used to speak of music it was different. You were different. You…you had a look on your face when you spoke of writing music, playing, anything. You looked…happy. I could see it in your eyes, the joy you felt, the pride."

Her face darkened. "But today when you wouldn't look me in the eye I knew you were remorseful, that you weren't proud of what happened. You didn't want to build those things, did you?"

I couldn't look at her when I shook my head.

"And your parents," Julia continued, her voice a little stronger, her tone a little firmer. She shook her head. "They should have been ashamed of themselves for what they did."

"I was fortunate," I said. The walls felt closer, the air thicker. "They allowed me to stay within their home. If they had chosen to they could have relinquished me to an asylum. In the asylum I would have been bound to a chair or a bed, unable to move, and I never would have seen them again. I wouldn't have seen anyone because once you go inside….they're very strict."

"A cellar," Julia said. "To them a cellar was better? With a tombstone outside bearing their son's name?"

"I was a terrible child," I said automatically, the only words I knew to say whenever I thought of them, of their disappointment.

"Don't ever say that," Julia said. I hadn't realized she had moved across the room until her hand grasped my arm. "You were not a terrible child. You had no opportunity to be a terrible child. It was them. It was them, all their fault, not yours. You did not control the way you were born, the way you were raised. Animals had greater privileges than you," she said, her words feeling like a sword twisting in my gut.

"I doubt it really mattered what you looked like. They were cruel, black-hearted and positively cruel people. They did not deserve to be blessed with a child, and a genius at that. If they would have understood your music, your talent..."

They thought I was possessed by something demonic, something evil, as they had no idea why something so hideous could produce such beautiful music. My father once attempted to drown me when he was drunk, as he thought the water was holy water. He may have drowned me had he not passed out first. I distinctly remember the terror, the feeling of being stark naked, freezing cold, and gagging violently on water.

His head had fallen into the metal tub where he had attempted to drown me. With all of the strength I possessed I dragged him clear of the water and lay him on the ground, saving his life from the water he had held me under.

"I loved them," I said, knowing how foolish I sounded.

"I know," she said gently. She stared at my chest, her brow furrowed, her eyes wistful. "Because I loved Louis, too."

Neither of us spoke for a while. Julia continued to hold my arm, her fingers gently clasped around my shirt sleeve.

She looked up at me suddenly, our eyes meeting at last. "When you left today…and later, when I came to your home and saw your hand," she said slowly, "I kept asking myself how you had managed to live all these years. I sat and I wondered how you survived what your parents did to you, what….what everyone you've ever known did to you."

Her voice trailed off and she gripped me tighter, her arms around my back, her head tilted down so I couldn't see her face.

"Except Madame Giry," she said softly. "And then Alex." She glanced up at me, her hand caressing my jaw. "I've always wondered why you tell me constantly that you've never hurt him or thought of hurting him. You're not telling me, are you? You're telling yourself, reminding yourself of…of everything."

"I don't want to hurt him," I answered. "Or you, or your daughter, or anyone else…save….save someone who would attempt to hurt any of you."

She knew what I meant. Her hands loosened, her eyes glanced away. We parted a moment and the room grew cold.

"He wants you to leave Paris," I said quietly, standing at a distance from her.

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "In a year," she said.

I studied her a moment. Her back was straight as a board, her eyes tormented. I remembered those eyes, that look that flooded her expression. When I would watch her in the back garden, in the days when she was still married to Louis and she would speak with Meg and Madeline, her eyes would glaze over. She would nod and smile a thin, closed-lip smile, a shroud covering her pain.

She was in pain.

Without a word I stood behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders, gently gripping her, holding her, telling her with my firm grasp that I was there with her. A sentinel. I would be her sentinel, just as she was mine in so many ways.

She leaned into me and began to cry, her body turning, her hands clutching to me in a way I had never felt before.

I smoothed her hair, her rain-dampened, wavy tresses catching my fingers as I felt the warmth of her tears soak through my shirt. Her breaths warmed a small spot against my chest.

"You're not going anywhere," I said firmly, claiming her with my words. I held her to me, making her mine to love, mine to protect, mine to keep for a lifetime.

Her tears ended in little hiccups that jolted her body. When she released my arms I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed her nose and eyes, doing what I could to calm her.

"I don't want to leave," she squeaked at last. "I don't want to leave you."

I didn't reply. It was her turn, I knew. It was her turn to speak now and my time to hold her and to listen, to finally return something to her. Even though she was still crying, her nose running, her eyes red and complexion blotchy, I felt good. I wanted to be something to her, and finally I was. I was her partner.

We sat down in the parlor on a velvet couch. She picked lint as she composed herself and finally, after what felt like an hour, she turned to me and said simply, "I'm sorry."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed, turning to face me and then moving away.

"I should have told you. About Max," she said as she began to fidget with her necklace. "I didn't think he would come here. I didn't think…he kept pushing his arrival back. I thought…"

She rose from her seat and walked into the hall, staring at the foyer for a moment. When she sat again she said nothing. She merely sat for a long while. Eventually she sighed.

"He's leaving in a week," she said softly, her eyes lifting. "Then…then." She merely nodded.

"He told his friend he was staying for ten weeks," I replied.

Her eyes locked on mine and she shook her head. "No, no you must have heard wrong. He's returning home in a week. He's not, he can't….his business, my father's business."

She rose again but I caught her by the arm. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"If he returns early…you need to return home before he comes back."

Her words insulted me and I rose to my feet beside her, releasing her arm. "Because you're ashamed to tell him of our courtship?"

"You don't know how he is," she replied quietly. She paused, listening.

"I know enough, Julia. I know his plans to return with you to Italy. He doesn't want you here."

"Because he knows," she said under her breath.

That was all she said. I waited for her to elaborate while my mind ran the gamut of possibilities. He could have known anything: Persia, the opera house, my composing...

My throat turned dry. I had the worst possible feeling weighing heavily in the pit of my stomach.

"He knows…but I don't know how much he's aware of—but I don't want him to know anything more," she said quickly. She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading. "It's not because I'm ashamed of you, or embarrassed for him to meet you. He's…" she was struggling, fighting for her words just as I had in the morning. "He's very strict."

"He was friends with your husband," I said somewhat pointedly.

She nodded. "They were friends before Louis and I were engaged. There were several of them who worked together, who were always together. Louis, Max…"

"Archie?"

"For a brief time, yes. And Henri, the man you saw outside. He's a Seuratti, though he's a distant cousin….never comes by the house…or, he didn't."

I looked at her sharply. "He's been here recently?"

"This afternoon. It was to see Max, whom he hasn't seen in ages," she said, which did nothing to improve my mood. She looked at me and frowned. "I think he told Max that I've been having an….indecent engagement. Perhaps he's overheard something from the neighbors," she rambled. She caught herself and stopped.

"Your brother doesn't like Archie, and it's become quite clear that Archie isn't fond of Max, either," I said.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, they don't like each other." When she looked at me she frowned. "It was a long time ago."

She paused again to listen for her brother to return. I could hear her breathing loud and heavy as though she had exerted herself.

When she was certain Max's night at the pub had not yet ended she stood a moment longer, her head bent down, her shoulders slumped.

"I was seventeen," she said quietly, so quietly I wasn't sure if I heard her when she spoke. "Louis and I had met several times, mostly while Max was accompanying us, or my sister Anna. I preferred Anna. I felt safer when she was around, though I wasn't sure why because…well, he was handsome. So tall," she said wistfully. "Tall, with such dark hair."

She looked at me suddenly, her face drained of color, her hazel eyes strangely dark, empty. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, my skin prickling, the air around me feeling heavy and stagnant.

"And such a temper," she whispered before her legs gave way and she collapsed.


	54. Julia's Truth

Ghost54

I managed to catch Julia before her head hit the ground, although I lost my grip on her once the fiery pain from my injury shot through my right hand. Sucking in a breath, I eased her to the floor and fanned her face.

When she didn't come to immediately, I cursed under my breath and pulled her upright, settling her head on my forearm as I lifted her from the hard floor. I expected her brother would return the moment I had her cradled in my arms, no wits about her, but I walked into the hall and managed up the stairs.

As gently as I could I lay her down on the bed. I covered her and stood at the foot of the bed, my heart racing. I left her a moment to make certain the door was locked. If Max came strolling in early—though I was certain he would be out much longer than he told Julia—I would hear him enter.

When I reached the top of the stairs I hesitated before reentering her bedroom. Everything she had said made me wonder if she thought of me in the same way she thought of Louis. Tall, dark-haired...temper.

My stomach twisted. We were not the same. Handsome, she had called him. I knew she would never call me handsome. I was long past caring whether or not she bothered to humor me with such flattery.

But handsome was not my concern. It was the similarity of possessing a temper.

It angered me that she could see us in the same light, as I had spent years convincing myself that I was nothing like Louis. I forced myself up the stairs and vowed she was mistaken. I was not like her dead husband. I was not similar to Louis Seuratti.

Julia was sitting up when I walked into her bedroom. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, but she still looked dazed.

"What—what happened?" she asked.

"You fainted," I replied.

She placed both hands over her cheeks and closed her eyes a moment. "In the parlor," she said weakly. "How long ago?"

"Not long," I assured her. I sat on the side of the bed and studied her face. "Five minutes, ten at the most. I didn't know how long you would be out, so I carried you up here."

Alarm replaced the grogginess in her expression. She started to throw back the covers but I grabbed her cold, bloodless hands, and shook my head.

"The doors are locked. If he returns soon I will leave as you asked," I said, though inside I wasn't sure I was being truthful.

It seemed Julia's mind was elsewhere, her thoughts ensnared by whatever it was she had started to tell me.

"I'm not like him," I blurted out.

"Like whom?" she mumbled.

"Louis," I answered. In the back of my mind I had a half-dozen ways to prove it was so.

Julia blinked at me. She let out a soft sigh and nodded. "I know."

I stared at her blankly for a moment. "Then…why did you faint?"

Julia closed her eyes. "It's…complicated," she said as she tossed the blanket back. She hesitated a moment, her eyes opening as she tested her stamina a moment, gingerly stepping on the balls of her feet until she was sure she could stand.

"You should lie down a while," I suggested, afraid she would fall again. She hesitated a moment but finally nodded and settled back.

"I've never fainted before," she said. She released a slight, nervous laugh as she ran her thumb down the length of her fingers, doing everything she could to avoid my eye. "The last thing I remember is...oh…Archie. Yes, we were…" she cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

In the five years I had known Julia, I had never seen her so anxious. She had always been mild-mannered, even-tempered and steady in mood. I wanted to tell her that I had heard Max say that Archie would still have two legs if he hadn't gotten in the way, but this would mean confessing I had overheard their conversation. Now that I saw how upset she was I didn't want to tell her about my eavesdropping. I felt guilty spying on her, despite h my best intentions of watching over her rather than listen for perverse pleasures.

"I must say, I am rather pleased that the two of you are getting along so well," she said absently. She shook her head and forced another uncomfortable laugh. "There are so many things I feel I should apologize to you for…the Erie Sisters, my insisting that you should come to know Hermine and Archie. It was too much, I know. I've…it's true what Madame Giry said. I have been terrible to you."

"Insistent," I replied as I sat beside her. "Not terrible."

She smiled and patted my hand. "Archie was so thrilled when I told him that a composer lived in the house behind mine. He's…excitable, I realize, but he's a good man. And I know that you only speak with Monsieur Lowry, but I thought you and Archie could become good friends.

"He's always been a very good person, a caring person," she continued. "And there's nothing romantic about my feelings for Archie. He's like family to me," she added quickly.

I nodded to acknowledge her words. Secretly I wondered what feelings Archie held toward Julia, though I held my tongue, knowing—finally—when to avoid pursuing something fruitless.

"He's told me that he's confronted you regarding Max, and I must admit I was quite livid when he said you two were discussing my brother. Archie undoubtedly believes he is acting chivalrously in warning you about Max. I suppose he views it as his duty."

"I don't believe Monsieur Leach is afraid of your brother," I said. "Perhaps he's not fond of him, but I don't gather he's afraid of Max."

Julia nodded. "He's not afraid. You're right. He's still not afraid of him."

I thought about what I had overheard from underneath her house. I wanted to know how Archie had protected Julia and what, if anything, it had to do with his false leg. When I looked at Julia, her face was pale, her lips trembling and tears were streaming down her face, I knew something was terribly amiss.

"It's my fault," she cried as she turned onto her side and away from me. She pulled her legs up to her stomach and covered her face with both hands, drawing the blanket up to her chin like a child. "Everything was my fault."

I no longer cared if her brother entered the room that minute. I lay behind her and placed my hand against her belly, and immediately drew her closer to me. She cried for quite some time, her body jolting each time the tears grew harder. I wondered what she was thinking, what made her cry so hard that she barely made a sound. She trembled as her efforts to cry turning to struggles to breathe.

"There was a creek outside town," she began suddenly, surprising me with the meekness of her voice. "We had to walk about a mile to reach it, as it was located between two farms." Her hand lowered over mine, her fingers intertwined with my own "My sister and I went there to swim with several other girls, but sometimes there were boys there, so we would walk home again because our father forbade us to swim with them."

She took several deep breaths, her body still quavering every few seconds.

"Louis and I were courting then, though we were engaged to be married in the spring. He insisted that we take a walk to the creek, but I didn't want to because…well, because he was a man, and I knew that men sometimes can't control themselves. They have urges, and I knew if we went to the creek he wouldn't be able to contain himself much longer."

I attempted to hold my anger at bay, but I knew what she was going to say. I placed my chin against her shoulder and kissed her ear, doing what little I could to feel adequate in being her lover when she suffered so greatly at another man's hand. Her abuse was something I couldn't fathom.

"I don't remember precisely, but we walked to the creek, which was vacant because it looked as though it would rain all day and no one wanted to walk home in the rain. Louis kept leading me further and further toward the trees, telling me that there was another path—a shortcut, he said, and that if we took the shortcut we would be at my home in no time at all. But I knew there was no path. There was…temptation," she said, her voice eerily light and almost cheerful.

"Julia," I whispered.

"You've told me everything," she said under her breath. "I at least owe you something in return."

"It's not bartering," I assured her, holding her tighter, feeling her breathing, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"He was dragging me," she said, ignoring my words. "By the hair. My foot caught on a fallen tree and I fell, knocking him to the ground with me. He became very cross and decided to teach me a lesson. I was to be his wife and I was to obey and serve him but I would never live up to his expectations if I wouldn't listen to him for just a moment."

I whispered in her ear what I thought of him and told her she didn't need to tell me anything yet I knew she wouldn't listen. Perhaps her demon was like mine, one which needed to be given a voice before it relented and crawled away, before shackles borne of nightmares and waking dreams of terror finally released.

"He told me he wanted to go for a little swim, so he tore my dress—tore the skirt clear off my dress—and pulled me toward the water. He knew I wasn't a strong swimmer. I went to the creek because it was shallow on one end and deeper on the other where the farmers watered their horses. I never went to the deeper side, so when he pulled me toward the end I started to struggle, to scream for someone because I was afraid he would throw me in."

I would have given anything to kill Louis again, to make his death the most horrific thing he could have ever imagine. I couldn't stop myself from exhibiting my anger. With my teeth clenched I breathed through my nose, hot, snarling, hellish breaths filled with anticipation of how I would make him suffer were he still alive.

"Then I saw Max standing on the path eating an apple. He asked Louis what he was doing and Louis casually explained that I was misbehaving and that now was the time to set his future wife straight. He made perfect sense: if I were allowed to keep my brash tongue, then I would become unmanageable. Max agreed. He shook Louis's hand and left. He left me, half-naked and screaming for him to return, to help me."

She rolled over to face me and buried her head against my chest, her sobs so loud that I feared she would wake her daughter. I pressed her face to my shirt and ran my hand up and down her spine, repeating her name softly, hoping she would realize I was there and Louis was gone. He would never harm her again. No man would harm her ever again.

"Louis waited until Max was gone. Then he kept forcing my head under the water, barely giving me chances to breathe. I had gravel, mud, plants from the creek in my mouth. He didn't care if I gagged or not. He wouldn't stop. He just wouldn't stop," Julia said. Her voice filled with terror when she spoke, and I wondered if I had sounded similar when I had revealed myself in the morning. "And there he was."

She didn't speak for a long time. I ran my fingers through her hair and smoothed away the tears on her cheeks.

"Archie pulled Louis off me. I think he hit him, too, because when I saw Louis's face it was bloody. But…Archie…he jumped into the water and pulled me out—carried me, really, and I vaguely remember him stumbling in the middle, because he pulled me out on the shallow side. And when it was to a depth where I could stand he put me on my own two feet and came up behind me, cursing something terrible. But he didn't leave the water quickly. He stood there a moment, his face pale next to his dark hair—and as long as I have known him he'd been rather tanned. But he was white as a sheet. And the water was red all around him."

I heard myself release a breath. I understood before she continued speaking.

"There was a plow, I think, or something from the farmers. Dumped, perhaps, or accidentally dragged into the water. It cut him across the calf. Clear up, I remember Hermine saying, from the back of his knee down to the heel of his foot. There was no saving it. None at all. He would have bled to death had the farmer not come by with a team of horses. They took him straight to town and amputated his leg." She looked at me and her eyes turned glassy again. "I didn't speak to him for two years, and when I did I was so ashamed. He had saved me…and I had married Louis." She sighed in disgust. "I still married Louis, even after Archie lost his leg. He did it for nothing."

Slowly, she turned away and curled up on the opposite side of the bed. I closed my eyes and frowned, understanding what hatred Archie had for Max and Louis and why Julia feared her own brother, her own bastard of a brother who did nothing to help her. They were family. Despite my own upbringing I thought that there had to be something terribly wrong with this man for him to walk away from his sister. I wanted him to enter Julia's bedroom. I wanted him to find me in bed with her, holding her, comforting her. I wanted him to see that she was taken care of by me and no one else. Julia was mine. She was my love, and soon enough she would be my wife.

I leaned forward and touched Julia's shoulder, gripping her firmly to show her I was there. I would always be there if she allowed it.

"He did it because he wasn't a bastard like your husband and he wasn't a God damned coward like your brother," I said, unable to hold back my anger. "He did what any man should have done."

"He shouldn't have done it," she said under her breath. "He shouldn't have jumped into the water. He would be fine if he hadn't jumped in. He shouldn't have," her voice grew weak, her body limp.

"I believe if you asked him, he would say he would do it again," I whispered in her ear, kissing her softly, drawing her near to me.

She nodded but said nothing and I had no idea if she believed me or not. I was appalled by what had happened to her, by what she had experienced before she had married Louis. I wasn't sure if I should feel angry or saddened by her revelation. Strangely, I only felt relieved and a newfound respect for Archie.

"No one will ever lay a hand on you, do you understand me? No man will ever raise his hand at you. Not for as long as I live."

She cried then, and when she composed herself she turned to look at me, cupped my face in her hands, and told me I should return home before there was trouble. She begged me without a word, her face so contorted that she didn't look like herself.

"I don't want you to leave," she said as I held her a moment longer. "Please understand that I love you, that I'm not attempting to hurt you."

"I know," I said.

"But it's for the best. For now, it's for the best."

"When may I see you again?" I asked, desperately wanting to keep her near me, to keep her at arm's length so that Max could not steal her away.

"Tomorrow evening. I'll take Lisette to visit Hermine. Max doesn't like Hermine, so if I say I'm visiting her, he won't ask to join us," she said. Her fingers dug into my arms and I knew she was absolutely terrified. That was what had caused her to faint. She was simply scared to her wit's end of her brother, of the man who had refused to help her.

"I'll come to your front door after dinner. Is that well?" she asked quickly.

I nodded, brushing more tears from her cheeks. "Rest," I said to her gently. "I will see you tomorrow evening."

I obediently left her bedroom and saw myself to the back door, though deep inside trouble was exactly what I wanted. Trouble, I mused, and her brother's fat head on a platter.

If he made any attempt to remove Julia from Paris and my life there would be hell to pay.


	55. Secrets and New Endeavors

Leach Ink t-shirts will be made available in my cafepress store by Friday. The design is by HDKingsbury. Thanks, HD!

Proceeds from any sales will go the ASPCA Disaster Relief Fund to support rebuilding efforts of shelters and the care of companion animals from the hurricane.

Let the story continue...

Ghost55

The next morning I awoke to Alex pounding on my bedroom door and screaming for me to wake up. By the sound of it, one would have expected another French Revolution.

"They're here," he said cryptically when I opened the door.

I blinked at him, turned away, and yawned. "Excuse me?"

"The stones!" Alex shouted. "They're here!" He grabbed me by the arm and made a valiant attempt to drag me from my room. "We must start or we'll never finish."

In his attempt to hurry me along, he pressed his fingers into the palm of my hand, which caused me to pull away. I turned away, gritting my teeth and stifling a curse as pain roared through my hand.

He was completely mortified by his actions, and when I turned to face him he had shrunk into the corner, eyes averted and head down.

"Wait downstairs," I snapped.

"Yes, Father," he answered, his enthusiasm extinguished. He looked back before he left the room. "I apologize. It was an accident."

"I understand that, but you must learn to be more careful," I said. My palm had started to bleed again, and when I glanced at Alex he was staring at the covered wound, his face white as a sheet.

"I made you bleed again," he said softly. He was absolutely horrified by what he had done.

"It will close on its own," I assured him. "I've always been a fast healer."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Like what? Like broken bones? Did you know some lizards can re-grow their tails when they fall off?"

"Unfortunately I'm not a lizard," I replied. Deciding to change the subject, I dropped my hand to my side. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to tell you about the stones first. I had the man leave them by the gate."

"Good. Go downstairs and tell Ruby to fix us something."

His eyes twinkled again, the shame he had felt in injuring me gone as he was given another task. He hopped down the stairs, shaking the foundation of the house by the sound of it, and raced into the kitchen yelling Ruby's name.

When I entered the dining room Alex, Ruby, Meg and Madeline were gathered in the corner whispering to one another.

"He's here!" Meg said as she scurried away. She glanced at me as she waddled through the door, her hand over her mouth and cheeks crimson.

Ruby and Madeline straightened at once and pretended to set the table, though it was obvious that they were conspirators. I leaned against the threshold a moment and watched Madeline, who was attempting not to smile. Alex took his seat and sat grinning unabashedly.

"Madeline," I said.

"Oh, when did you come in?" she asked, doing a terrible job of acting. She was always better at dancing. It was no wonder she was never given a speaking role on the stage.

"Why were the four of you were whispering in the corner?" I asked as I took my seat.

"We were not whispering in the corner," she huffed. "Sit down."

"I am," I replied, finding her feathers easily ruffled.

Her face reddened as she stormed from the room, muttering something about me being suspicious of everyone and everything. With Madeline leaving in a huff, Ruby returned to the kitchen, and Meg—the only one I was certain couldn't keep a secret— gone, I turned to Alex, who was still grinning.

He was about ready to burst. I suspected he was worse at keeping a secret than Meg.

"Would you like to tell me something?" I asked as I leaned forward and gave him a stern look.

"No."

"Alex," I warned.

He shook his head, his lips pursed and eyes still wide.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Ruby called out from the kitchen. "And Alex, don't you dare say a word!"

"I won't!" he yelled back.

He would divulge information if I stared at him a while longer. Knowing my intentions, Alex slumped low in his chair and began rapping his knuckles on the table.

"Father!" he shouted suddenly, startling me.

"There's no need to scream, for God's sake, I'm sitting two feet away from you, Alex."

He ignored my scolding. "I need to learn to play something today."

"You…pardon me?"

Ruby brought breakfast into the dining room and gave Alex a sharp look, checking him over to see if he had kept his promise. He nodded and smiled, silently telling her that he had not said a word, which was beginning to irritate me.

"I need to learn to play something. Such as the flute, or the violin, or…something," he said before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of hot food Ruby had set before him. "Mmm, Ruby, you smell so good."

She giggled and pinched his cheek. "Oh, Alex, you little thing."

He bristled at her comment as she set my food down and smiled. "I'll bring juice in a moment, Monsieur. If you don't need anything else I will be off to market."

"With Archie," Alex muttered under his breath.

"Fine," I said to Ruby. I turned my head to the side. "Juice? What happened to tea?"

"Oh, Archie brought a dozen oranges early this morning and I juiced several of them. You know the Leaches just opened an orchard outside of Seville. Oranges smell wonderful. They're very exotic!"

Alex threw his head back and groaned, but his efforts were in vain.

"Would you prefer tea? The oranges are very sweet, Monsieur," Ruby tempted.

My mouth was already watering, so I agreed to orange juice. Alex, however, only wanted tea. The poor boy had no idea the tea we drank was also a product of the Leaches, and I didn't have the heart to tell him.

Ruby smiled and left the room. Once she brought a carafe of orange juice and a pot of tea she walked down the hall and said goodbye, telling me she would return shortly.

"What's this about wanting to learn to play an instrument?" I asked Alex once we were alone.

"I need to learn today," he replied.

He had never shown interest in music. He enjoyed listening to me play, but he had been quite stubborn when it came to learning. I had never pushed him to pursue music, which drove Madeline mad, as she was quite insistent that his blood was filled with talent.

He was six the last time I handed him a violin and watched him screech and scratch for a moment before boredom set in and he asked me to read him a book. I refused to force him, knowing he would take no joy in the art of music if I insisted he learn.

"Today?" I asked. "You realize it is quite impossible to learn music in a day."

He shrugged. "Perhaps I can play by ear."

I took a sip of my juice and shrugged. "It's a possibility," I agreed, feeling my heart palpitate. I had given up hope of my son enjoying music as much as I did. To hear that he was interested suddenly gave me renewed optimism. "Why the sudden interest, Alex?"

"It's time I learned," he said.

He didn't appreciate it when I chuckled softly and continued to eat breakfast. He sounded so sure of himself that I wondered if Madeline had told him he was a natural musician, one who only needed to find his talent.

Alex said little more of his newest endeavor, save that he was fond of the cello and the violin and that the piano and organ didn't interest him at all. With the promise that we would see to his hobby—which he insisted was his new craft—we set out for the back garden and the task of widening the path for Charles.

With my hand injured as it was I didn't expect to be able to do much, as I explained to Alex, who nodded as he squinted at me.

Before I asked him if he would prefer working another day we were interrupted by a greeting that could only belong to one individual.

"Bon-sure…or shall I say o-la," Archie said with a clap as he stood behind the gate.

Alex scowled at the man who had stolen Ruby from him, but Archie, naturally, didn't notice. For a moment I considered covering the right side of my face but it didn't seem to matter. Archie was already looking me in the eye. No matter what I did now he had already seen my face.

"How are you, Mon-sure?" he asked, reverting back to his native English. "The hand must be feeling better, I trust?"

I glanced at my hand, then back at Archie. "Not well enough for setting stones," I answered.

He rubbed his hands together. "Then I came in time to offer my assistance," he said jovially. He set something down and rolled up his sleeves. "The Leaches are very hard workers, Mon-sure. We pride ourselves on it."

"May I be excused?" Alex groaned.

"I believe we will save our project for another day," I told Archie. I nodded toward Alex, who bounded up the stairs and into the house without looking back. I would need to speak to him later regarding Ruby. I had a feeling she was behind his sudden desire to learn music.

"Did Mademoiselle Dubois inform you I delivered oranges this morning?" Archie asked as he allowed himself into the back garden.

"Yes, she made juice," I said.

He laughed, though I wasn't sure why he was amused.

"Juice? Leach Oranges aren 't for juicing. They're for enjoying, savoring, Monsieur, savoring! Ru-by, Ru-by, Ru-by," he said as he shook his head. "Well, I hope the old girl saved some for eating, but if she didn't I'll send some more over. They're very good. The Leaches only provide the best. That's what I've always said," he replied with a wink and a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

There was nothing I could say to that, so I merely nodded.

"What do you say, Monsieur Kire? Shall we retire to the parlor?" His grin widened as he lifted his arm. "I brought my violin," he said as he tapped on the case.


	56. Archie's Violin

Ghost56

Ruby returned the moment we walked through the back door. Alex was instantly at her side offering his assistance by taking the parcels from her hands.

"My, my, you are such a gentleman," she said, which didn't dissuade Alex from his infatuation.

"May I?" Archie asked as he set his violin on the floor and took the remaining bags from Ruby.

She blushed as she removed her bonnet and smiled at the two gentlemen who had come to her rescue.

"Oh, Archie, really," Ruby said as she followed them into the kitchen. "You and Monsieur Kire enjoy yourselves in the parlor. Don't worry about me. I'll bring coffee in a moment."

"Ruby, what about me?" Alex asked.

"Oh, you are just a sweetheart, Alex. You're like a little brother to me, darling." She glanced at me. "Coffee, Monsieur?"

I ignored her words, as my attention was trained on Alex, who was looking positively miserable. His face was set in a scowl, his nostrils flared in pure disgust as he watched Ruby pat Archie's hand and thank him again.

"Alex," I called out. He looked at me reluctantly, anger still evident in his eyes. "Join me in the parlor a moment."

Once I shut the door Alex flopped into the armchair and crossed his arms. He refused to look at me when I sat across from him.

"Alex," I said.

"May I be excused?" he asked.

"No. Look at me when I speak to you."

He did as I asked for a heartbeat before he sank lower in his chair. His lip jutted out, his cheeks flushing.

I knew his heartache well, and it pained me to see him so infatuated with Ruby when she felt nothing but brotherly affection toward him. At least she enjoyed his company, I thought for one fleeting moment. However, it would make no difference to Alex. He was quite smitten with her.

"Alex, this fascination with Ruby must end."

"Fascination?" he moaned.

"She is much too old for you."

He stared at me a moment before he spoke. I could see the idea forming on his face. "But you're older than Madame Seuratti. You're _much_ older than she."

"I am not _much_ older than she." I said.

"Yes, you are. By fourteen years. Aunt Meg—"

"Alex," I sighed, frustrated with myself for allowing the conversation to deter. "Madame Seuratti and I are both adults. You, however, are still a child."

He looked away again and began kicking the legs of the chair with his heels. "But Meanie said we are courting. Why can't I court Ruby as well?"

"It isn't polite to court more than one woman," I said.

"But Meanie has many suitors."

God help them all, I thought. I nodded, attempting to be as sympathetic as possible toward my son, who was quite obviously suffering from his first case of heartache.

"How is it that you know Mademoiselle Leach has many suitors?" I questioned.

His mood soured even more. "She had several men assist her with phonographs."

"I see."

He shrugged. "I don't like her anyway," he confessed.

I studied him a moment. "I thought you enjoyed spending time with Mademoiselle Leach."

"She's nice. I prefer Ruby. Ruby always smells so good. And she always makes the most delicious food."

He was in love with her cooking. I wasn't certain if his affection carried much further than his stomach.

"Alex, you must understand that Mademoiselle Dubois is happy with Monsieur Leach. As a gentleman you should respect their relationship," I told him, speaking words I never expected to hear come from my own mouth. "You may not treat Monsieur Leach poorly."

"Father," Alex said as he sat up straight. He looked me dead in the eye and said quite sternly, "I find Monsieur Leach highly irritating."

"Irritating or not I expect you to greet him and treat him with respect, Alex. Is that understood?"

He nodded. "May I be excused now?"

"You may resume your studies for the day," I told him.

His face contorted in the most painful expression. One would have thought he had been gutted. "But my lessons! I need to learn to play something!"

"Then, if you wish, you may stay while Archie plays the violin."

Alex appeared dumbfounded by my offer. Before he had a moment to consider my offer there was a knock at the door.

"Monsieur, have you heard American music?" came Archie's muffled voice. "I brought several sheets of music if you would care to play together. Unless you would rather play one of your own compositions?"

I raised a brow at Alex, silently giving him the opportunity to stay within the room or leave.

He rose to his feet, opened the door and asked, "What sort of American music?"

-o-

Archie set his violin case on my desk and rubbed his hands together before cracking his knuckles, which caused Alex to make a face and look at me. I shot him a warning look and he sat back in his chair without a word.

Archie looked at Alex. "Have you heard of a place called Kentucky?"

Alex shook his head. "America?"

"Correct. Very good, Alex."

"I don't know where exactly," Alex said with a shrug. "Monsieur Lowry and I have not reached America yet. We're in the Orient presently."

"Forget the Orient. I am going to show you what the Americans in the southern states enjoy. Would you like that, Alex?"

Alex looked to me for approval and I nodded, finding my own curiosity piqued.

"Yes, Monsieur," he answered politely.

Archie smiled as he opened the violin case and stood back, relishing in the beauty of the instrument revealed. He allowed us a moment to admire the violin in its velvet-lined case before carefully removing it and showing it to me.

"Northern Italian spruce for the top and sides," he said proudly. "And maple for the back."

"Strong," I said simply, having never seen anything like it. I had carried the same violin for fifteen years, and my instrument was removed from the orchestra pit. Mine was not the finest instrument, but the quality of music it produced was fine. I tuned it myself and kept it in good repair. But this…this was a work of art. It had a higher arch than my own instrument and a more narrow shape. I sat far forward, mesmerized, salivating at the thought of how it would sound.

"Boxwood pegs, chin rest, and tail-piece," Archie continued. "Monsieur, would you do me the honor of playing first?"

I took it from his hands before I spoke, which amused Archie into clapping again. My hand still hurt, but I would have played if my hand were missing completely.

"It took a year to build, Monsieur. Cost me twenty-thousand French francs."

"Where did it come from?" I asked.

"It's not from one of my own, if that's what you mean to ask, Monsieur. Believe me, sir, if this were the product of a Leach I would have been honored to present you one of your own. There is a little old man who lives in Cologne. He makes one violin a year, as well as several other instruments. It takes him three months to make a viola. Two years, I've heard for a cello to be completed. You won't find anything like it elsewhere."

He continued to talk while I played a portion of one of Mozart's violin concertos. The sound emanating from the instrument was surprisingly deep and rich. I closed my eyes and listened, drinking in the sound, breathing in each note I played.

"Marvelous," Archie said when I handed him his violin.

Alex applauded, jumping to his feet. "That makes your violin sound like tin, Father!"

"Simply marvelous," Archie continued. "I dare say you've done this instrument greater justice than I've ever done, Monsieur."

"It's quite a piece of art," I said amiably. "Worth every franc you paid."

"And then some," Archie agreed. He turned toward Alex and snapped his fingers. "How would you like to see a violin become a fiddle?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Alex said, completely mesmerized by the violin now.

I was pleased by his excitement. Archie stood beside my son and bent down enough to show Alex how he positioned his fingers. My respect for Monsieur Leach could not have been greater than it was in that moment. He was by all accounts a respectable man. I could see past his exuberance and admire an individual who stood eye-level with my son and allowed him to hold the violin. Alex seemed to have forgotten his rivalry with Monsieur Leach, favoring music over a feud.

Archie eventually took up the instrument and played it as a fiddle, which I had never heard before. He played something fast-paced, which made Alex clap along as he stood beside Archie, his eyes wide and a grin on his face.

"Where did you learn to play it as a fiddle?" I asked once he finished playing.

"The fair," he said. He chuckled softly to himself. "Believe it or not, they do have something other than phonographs, Monsieur."

Eventually Charles came to retrieve Alex for his studies, which I knew would last well into the evening, as Alex had spent the majority of his day with me. Archie returned the violin to its case before turning to face me.

"A sincere pleasure to hear you play today," he said, extending his hand. "I will pay a visit to the violin maker when I travel south again. Perhaps he would accept a trade…oranges, whiskey, something of the sort for another one of these beauties. Especially if he knew it was for a composer such as yourself."

"I would be more than willing to draft you a check this very minute," I said.

Archie clapped me on the back. "Not yet, Monsieur. Let me first see what I can do for a friend."


	57. Proposal

A/N This chapter did not want to be posted! I've had computer crashes and lost files. Sorry it took so long to post! Please review it! That will make me feel better.

On a side note…my website is being revamped. Come visit me soon and sign the guest book. Gabrina dot com.

Ghost57

For the remainder of the afternoon I continued to see Madeline and Meg whispering to one another. The only part of the conversation I heard was Madeline telling Meg to keep her voice down.

When I tired of eavesdropping I retired to the parlor until suppertime. I could hear Charles speaking to Alex in different languages. I followed them through English, Italian, Latin, and German, finding myself surprised at how fluent Alex was in his language skills.

I continued to listen to them as I glanced through the paper. The text seemed smaller than usual, and I was forced to light a lamp by late afternoon. When that failed to improve my vision I tossed the paper aside and rubbed my temples.

Bessie was sitting at my feet, her tail wagging and sad eyes staring up at me. She seemed surprised when I looked at her.

"What do you want?" I asked, rubbing her head.

She whined and licked my hand, her feet shuffling back and forth in a familiar pattern. With a smile I pushed the chair back and sighed.

"A house filled with people and not one will relieve you," I said under my breath as she trotted beside me down the hall. She whined again, which drew Aria from her hiding place and directly beneath my feet.

I managed to avoid crushing her, though in watching where she was I hit my shoulder on the door frame and swore loudly upon entering the kitchen.

Ruby's face turned bright red when she saw me. She dropped her knife on the kitchen table before turning away. Apparently the Testan House did not use such language, as she looked horrified.

"Damned cat," I spit as I glanced around for Aria. She had disappeared from sight, leaving only an impatient dog dancing back and forth and whining to be released.

Without a word I led Bessie into the back garden and watched her tear off toward the fence, growling until speed and distance were misjudged and she slammed into the unforgiving barrier.

"Shut up, you damned dog!"

That was Max. I recognized his voice.

The fence shook suddenly and I whistled, calling Bessie back to me. She continued to growl as she dug along the fence, completely ignoring me.

"Retrieve your dog!"

I heard Julia's back door open and close. "Max, please," Julia pleaded.

"This is what I expect from the French. Stupid bastards should keep their animals inside."

"Max!"

"I'll slit that dog's throat! Take your dog inside!" he shouted.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I called Bessie again, shouting her name and whistling, which finally gained her attention. She slunk back reluctantly, did her business, and scurried into the house.

"Don't, Max! Don't say something like that!"

"Julia, return to the kitchen."

There was a pause on Julia's behalf and I thought she had obeyed. I wished I could see through the fence to make certain he wasn't physically harming her. I didn't give a damn if he saw me.

"What are you staring at?"

"Noth…nothing."

"Then go."

"I…need…to…"

"Speak, woman! My God, what in the hell is wrong with you today?"

"I need to speak with Madame Lowry," she blurted out.

Without another word her back door slammed shut. I shuddered, my heart thumping, my hands trembling with rage. He would not treat Julia with such disrespect.

I stormed toward the back gate, hell-bent on taking her away from him at once.

The door opened before I reached the gate and I froze in the middle of the pathway, my rage consuming me.

"I'm fine," Julia whispered as she silently closed the gate behind her. "May we go inside?"

She walked to me and clasped my hands.

"You're trembling," I said into her hair.

"I'm fine. I would like to sit now," she said blankly.

Rather than argue I nodded. She took my arm and leaned into me, pressing her face to my shoulder.

"Stay here," I said as I held her tighter. "Marry me now. And never leave. Never leave, Julia. You and Lisette may live here. As a family. I'll buy you a ring today, anything you want."

Julia said nothing but I heard her start to cry. I wasn't sure if she was happy or upset, so I held her as tightly as I could and ushered her into the parlor, intending on a long chat to settle her nerves and mine.

When the door closed she wrapped both arms around my back and kissed my neck. I sighed, savoring her soft caress. The anger I felt had dissolved until the only thing remaining was relief in having her near me again.

I started to comment on her affection but she put her finger to my lips. Without a sound she began unbuttoning my shirt.

"Julia…?" I questioned softly.

She kissed my mouth and both sides of my face as her hands entered beneath my shirt, fingers tangling against the hair on my chest. Her palms were so warm that the unexpected sensation made me draw in a sharp breath.

It was impossible to think or find a good reason to tell her we should stop. Her touch was so soothing, her light perfume adding to her intrigue. I returned her kiss, feeling the tears on her cheeks and the slight quiver of her parted lips.

Julia held me tighter, her belly pressed to mine, arms linked around my neck as the kiss deepened. I understood little of what she wanted and cared less why she suddenly felt so amorous.

"I love you," she breathed in my ear as I held her to me, my fingers working at the ties on the back of her dress once the desire became too heated to be denied. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered between kisses.

Damn the rational thoughts that entered my head. I could still hear Charles and Alex across the hall, which erased all sense of arousal. If Alex heard voices in the parlor he would undoubtedly feel the need to investigate, and the last thing I wanted was for him to pound on the door or ask why it was locked. Being so uncouth he would want to know why Julia and I were alone, and since he wasn't yet nine years of age I had no desire to speak to him of adult matters.

Julia must have sensed my apprehension. She reached for the buttons of my trousers, her hands slowly encouraging me to comply. There was only so much resistance I was willing to give, and as she found the last button I was prepared to sweep everything off my desk and throw her on top.

But she wasn't acting like herself. As much as I didn't want to stop, I didn't want her in this way. She was acting as my _placee_ rather than a woman I wanted as a wife.

"Julia—"

"Don't stop," she begged.

"Not here," I said as I pulled back and stared at her flushed face. I glanced around the room and then turned back to Julia.

"Why?" she snapped as she pushed away from me. "You asked me to marry you. Now you want nothing to do with me?"

"Not like this," I said softly, unwilling to argue with her.

"Like what?" she challenged.

I met her hardened stare a moment before I turned away and buttoned my shirt and trousers again. "You're not yourself," I said over my shoulder.

"Then what am I?"

"Angry," I said without looking at her. My stomach felt as though it had flipped over. "Apprehensive. Terrified."

She wouldn't look me in the eye as she stepped away and folded her arms. I didn't want to shame her. I wanted to tell her that I understood how she felt, as I had felt the same way for decades.

When I stepped toward her she didn't move. She closed her eyes when I stroked her hair and she came willingly into my embrace. I held her tighter and attempted to stop her trembling. Eventually she embraced me as well and we stood, arms wrapped around one another. I could have held her forever, my cheek resting against the top of her head and the left side of her face pressed to my chest.

My only concern now that was Julia was with me was where her daughter was staying. I lifted Julia's chin after a long while and smoothed away the tears on her cheeks.

"Is Lisette with him?" I asked, refusing to use his name.

"No, she's with Hermine," Julia said with a shake of her head. "I wouldn't leave her alone with him." She caught the look in my eye and took a deep breath. "He wouldn't abuse her. He's just not able to care for a child."

I couldn't imagine her returning to that house while her brother was still there. Thinking of him made me sick. My greatest fear was that he would take her away from me. If he returned with her to Italy it would be weeks until I found her again, if not months—if ever. He wanted her in a respectable marriage, I knew. If he fled from Paris with Julia I had no doubt he would see her married at once.

"Stay here," I pleaded.

"No, I shouldn't."

"Why?" I asked. "Why must you return?"

"He'll come looking for me soon," she said, her voice trembling.

"He may search as much as he damned pleases," I told her. "But no one will ever lay a hand on you."

For years I had waited for this moment. I would not stand idle and see my chance slip away.

I lowered down to one knee and grasped her hand. "Julia, marry me."


	58. Unwelcomed

'Lo, all! A message from Gabrina:

I will be out of town for 10 days, back for 2 and gone again for a weekend. Fear not! The story will be updated still. I will try to get another chapter up Monday night/early Tuesday morning, though while I am on vacation I won't be able to update every other day. Sorry! But I deserve a vacation, right? And so does Erik.

As another side issue…several of my stories are listed in a C2 archive that is called Erik's Harem of Mary Sues. This is not a flattering category and has nothing to do with my stories. Please email the TOS for and ask them to remove the C2 archive, which I did NOT ask to be a part of. The owner has been very rude to me in emails. She is also listing many other wonderful fics. Travesty!

(I know I'm listed on AHomeless Pirate's C2 and that's fine—she's a respectable list owner.)

Okay enough rants. On with the story. Thanks everyone!

_Erik's notes…In the last chapter I proposed to Julia. _

Ghost58

"Julia, I love you," I said as I knelt before her. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her softly, feeling her fingers squeeze mine.

I was asking her to abandon our courtship but I no longer cared. I could not tolerate waiting for her to become my wife.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered.

"I want you as my wife," I said. "I don't want to be away from you ever again."

Tears formed in Julia's hazel eyes, though she smiled when she looked at me and I knew what she wanted, what we both wanted. All she needed was to agree and I would buy her a ring. By the following morning we would be wed and there was not a damned thing her brother could do about it.

"Please don't kneel," Julia said as she tugged on my hand.

I did as asked, and before I was on my feet she wrapped her arms around me, causing both of us to tumble into the desk. Even as I lost my balance I refused to let go. She was mine. At last she was going to be mine.

"You will never have to worry about anything. We can remain in Paris, or we may move elsewhere. As long as you are my wife I don't care where we live. All I want is you in my life, in my home. That's all I want."

"We should stay here. Your family is here," she said as she laced her fingers through mine. "You should be here with Madeline and Meg and Charles."

"Then we will remain in Paris. Lisette will have Charles as her tutor if you wish. I will do everything for you, Julia. When you are my wife, you will want for nothing. I would do anything to make you happy."

"I know you would, but you needn't do a thing for me, Erik." Julia paused a moment and smiled as she ran her fingers along my cheek. "I haven't answered yet, have I?"

"No, I don't believe so," I said, though I doubted she would deny my offer.

She threw her arms around me again and kissed me full on the lips. Her exuberance made me chuckle. We were going to be married. After all these years we were finally going to be married.

Julia pulled back suddenly and looked at me. "You're laughing," she said.

My face straightened. I hadn't meant to laugh at her. "No, no I'm not."

She smiled again. "Yes, you are," she giggled and kissed me again. "Because you're happy. And I'm happy, too, Erik. Of course I'll be your wife."

"Then tomorrow morning I will buy you a ring and everything will—"

My words were cut off by someone pounding on my front door. Before I could say another word Julia sprang away from me and stumbled back into the corner, her eyes wide and fearful.

"He's here," she said under her breath.

The pounding continued and I heard Madeline muttering under her breath, cane tapping the floor as she moved toward the door.

"May I help you, Monsieur?" Madeline said.

"Where is she?" Max demanded.

"I must return home. Erik, I must return home," Julia said softly, her voice trembling.

I glanced at her before settling my gaze on the door. That man was not welcome in my house.

"Monsieur, who are you looking for?" Madeline asked.

"Julia Seuratti," he seethed.

My blood was boiling. How dare he come to my home in search of Julia. I reached for the doorknob with every intention of telling him to return to Italy.

"Erik, please," Julia whimpered.

"He's not allowed in my home," I said over my shoulder. "He's not allowed in _our _home."

Her face had gone white and my words did nothing to stifle her growing fears, which angered me further. Moments ago we had been truly happy. For once we had found happiness and now her brother had stormed my home and threatened to destroy what I had finally found.

"Wait here," I told her.

"No, don't leave," Julia begged, but it was too late. I walked into the hall and quietly shut the door behind me, wishing I had my mask again. I had grown comfortable standing before Madeline, Meg and Julia without my mask. I still dreaded meeting strangers, however I assumed I could intimidate him solely by my appearance.

I saw Max before he saw me, as he was waving his arms about and demanding that Julia be relinquished immediately. Madeline repeatedly told him Julia was not in our house, and as he continued to argue she closed the door a little more until all I could see was his arm waving about.

"What do you want with Madame Seuratti?" Madeline asked, ignoring his boorish behavior.

"She is my sister and she is to return home at once."

His voice drew Alex from the library. Charles was not far behind, and I heard Monsieur Lowry telling Alex to stay put.

"Father?" Alex questioned as he tiptoed down the hall.

I nodded to him. "Return to your studies."

"Is there a guest?"

"Alex, do not question me. Return at once."

With his eyes downcast he turned and entered the library again, passing Charles on the way. Alex glanced back at me before he disappeared from sight, his face taut, his eyes narrowed. He appeared angry at me for not allowing him to stay but said nothing. I knew his concerns. He was still haunted by what he had seen in the alley the night I encountered the Vicomte again.

Monsieur Lowry remained in the doorway. He gave me a worried look but didn't speak. Charles knew there was nothing he could say.

"Shut the door," I said softly, keeping my voice even. "And keep Alex with you."

Charles was reluctant but did as I asked and wheeled himself into the library. I heard him flip the lock once the door was closed.

With Alex and Charles returned to the library and Julia safe within my study I walked into the foyer. Madeline was still arguing with Max and Meg was standing in the hall near the kitchen with Ruby at her side. The two of them were clinging to one another.

"Well, Monsieur, I assure you she is not here," Madeline said as she began to shut the door.

Max kicked the door before it shut, which startled Madeline.

"Mother!" Meg screamed. She started to run down the hall but Ruby grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

Madeline turned and the door hit her in the knee when it snapped back. She screamed in pain and hobbled away, her hand over her face in horror as Max stalked after her. Her eyes were locked on him, and I knew from her pallor that she didn't see me standing behind Max.

"Where is the thing you call your son?" Max seethed.

Madeline's legs betrayed her and she sank to her knees, crawling away from him toward her daughter who was still being held back by Ruby.

My blood was boiling as I waited for him to turn. He had entered my home uninvited, which he would soon discover to be the biggest mistake of his life. He intimidated Julia. That alone was beyond clemency. But now he was threatening Madeline's well-being and putting Meg into hysterics.

"Where is he?" Max shouted as he started down the hall toward Meg and Ruby.

"I am here," I said, keeping my voice low and even. "Turn around, you son of a bitch."


	59. Punishment

I write long chapters while on vacation! Please review! Thanks!

Ghost59

Upon hearing the sound of my voice, Max remained perfectly still. His hands balled into fists, though he kept his back turned to me, mocking my authority within my home. Only his shoulders moved slightly as he chuckled to himself, apparently amused by my threat.

I wanted to snap his neck.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? The man who has enslaved my sister's good sense," he said coolly.

"Leave," I demanded. "Leave my home at once."

"Or what?" he challenged.

"Or I will kill you where you stand," I threatened, my hands shaking in pure bloodlust.

This man did not deserve to stand within my home. He had threatened to slit my dog's throat, he had injured Madeline, and he had frightened Meg half to death. Worst of all was the way he treated his sister. There was something wrong with a man who would not defend family.

"Kill me?" Max echoed.

I expected he would turn on his heel and storm toward me, as he had given chase to Madeline without a second thought. But this man hadn't the nerve to face an equal. He stayed his distance, his head turned to the side, his back rigid with pure loathing. Still, I thought him a coward for refusing to face me.

He chuckled again and turned his head to the side, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I wondered if he could see my face or not. A stab of self-consciousness rattled through me, one which I didn't understand.

"For days I have been scouring the neighborhood," Max said slowly, his voice turning to a growl. "From the moment I arrived I knew there was someone, some bastard after my sister, some dog in search of a bitch in heat."

"Don't speak like that! Don't you ever say such things to him!" Meg shrieked at the end of the hall. I glanced at her briefly and saw her struggling to free herself from Madeline and Ruby's grasp. She had the most murderous expression on her face, one which I had never seen on Little Meg.

"Women should be taught not to speak out of turn," Max said as he lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. "Their uses are few, and once their tongues are loosened there is really no need for them at all. I suggest you teach that woman a lesson, one which she will not soon forget."

He insinuated that I should hit her. My teeth gnashed together, my chest tightening with a growing ball of abhorrence for this man.

"You have one last chance to leave my home," I said evenly, giving him the opportunity to depart without incident. For Julia's sake it was necessary to avoid a fight, though nothing would have sated me more than strangling this man.

"I will do as I damned well please," he retorted.

Meg began screaming again, though she was so hysterical that her words were inaudible.

My eyes fixed on Madeline and I nodded, instructing her silently to take Meg and Ruby into the kitchen where they would be less distracting. Madeline shook her head, which I expected from her, though it irritated me greatly that she would not obey. If I could not protect my house they had a better chance of fleeing if they were already in the kitchen or in the back garden. There was nothing to gain from them huddling and shrieking.

"I said—"

"So this is what my sister favors in the night," Max said, cutting off my words.

My attention snapped back to him. He kept his distance but was now facing me.

He looked nothing like Julia. He was broad-shouldered, his legs and waist thick. His unshaven face was ruddy, his brows thick over small, piercing blue eyes. There was something oddly familiar about him, but I attempted not to stare. My heart palpitated wildly as the anger I felt slowly sank beneath the weight of another emotion I hadn't felt consume me in years.

"It's even worse than I thought. Good God have mercy for my poor sister is either blind or ignorant to bed such a hideous beast."

His words left me speechless, yet I stood my ground, my expression one of stone, my stance unfaltering. My eyes glanced away, betraying the statue I had become in his presence. I hated myself for looking away, for allowing fear to nestle within my heart.

Max smiled in satisfaction, his chin rising as he prepared for the slow and meticulous death blow. I knew he would torture me first. I remembered the sensations well, the little pieces of pride and self worth being chipped away one by one.

"Little wonder you come and go in the middle of the night. Is that the mask; or is there something else beneath it, Monsieur?" he asked, not looking for an answer. He stepped forward and crossed his arms. "I do hope that is the mask and it is nothing more than a cruel and twisted joke for I would truly hate to know that there are faces such as that in the world."

No one had dared to insult me in this manner in years. I couldn't bring myself to speak. My tongue knotted. Though I stared at him still I could not utter a sound. My mind reeled back to childhood, and the face I saw slowly changed into the reddened, cruel visage of my father.

"Is it better that way, Monsieur? To come crawling through the back door in the night so she doesn't have to suffer your appearance? Do you consider it a form of charity to Madame Seuratti?"

"Leave," I said, though my voice had lost its power.

"You have yet to serve me tea, Monsieur," Max continued. He was like a lion smelling my blood in the air. Judging by his words he knew my weaknesses and used them to his advantage, which was something no one had dared to do for many long years.

"Are you as rude as you are grotesque? Or are you wondering how I know that you come into my sister's home in the dark of the night and leave her well before the dawn?"

My insides felt as though they were shutting down one by one, abandoning me to my fate. The walls of my home transformed into my parent's home before my eyes. This, I knew, was the berating I received before I was sentenced to the prison below their home. On many days I knew the verbal beating was much worse than the physical ones. My bruises healed, the cuts and scrapes disappeared, but their words haunted me still. I could not defend myself against words.

It was a terrible sensation, one I imagined was like drowning. I could feel my gut slowly sinking, my shame rising and preventing me from uttering all the words slowly merging in my head. I was losing. I was weak, and small, and pathetic, and losing to this man.

I hated myself for my silence, for allowing him the upper hand.

"I would wager that everyone on this damned street and the next knows what you do," Max replied. "You have the convenience of a whore in your own back garden. That's what one of your neighbors thinks of you, of this shadow that slinks across the way and through an unlocked door to a willing partner, I gather. A most foolish one, indeed, my sister. Perhaps one day if she sees that rotten flesh you have as a face she will come to appreciate what she had in her husband."

Upon hearing that statement I regained my wits and stalked toward him, my wounded right hand balled into a fist. He could insult me as much as he wanted, but no man would speak ill of Julia. I would not tolerate it.

His expression changed from smug satisfaction to utter surprise once I stood before him, my mouth set in a straight line, my eyes cold and piercing, reflected in his own startled gaze.

"What sort of man refers to his own sister as a whore?" I questioned, looking him dead in the eye.

The smirk slowly left his thick lips but the malice remained in his small eyes. "One who knows that whatever you pay her is not nearly enough," he replied.

"You may say whatever you wish about me," I said slowly. "I care not what you think of me, as I have heard everything—_everything_—a thousand times over. I'm a monster, I'm the devil, I'm a carcass, I'm a corpse," I said through my teeth. "Say it. Say whatever you wish about me, but if you ever threaten the people who live within my house or the woman I am engaged to again I will strangle the life from your body and savor the look on your face when your eyes bulge from their sockets and your complexion turns from red, to blue, to deathly white. Tempt me, Monsieur, you need only to tempt me."

The smile slowly returned to Max's face. "I do hope you have paid well for her services, as my sister needs all the funding she can obtain. I suppose if it pays the bills and keeps her daughter fed she doesn't care who she lays with at night," Max continued. "Sleeping with a monster is better than picking rags."

With my left hand I shoved him into the wall and grabbed him by the throat, drawing my right hand back in a loose fist. It would hurt like hell to punch him with such a fresh injury no matter how fast I healed. I had no doubt my hand would split open again, but I didn't care. If I hit him hard enough I could spill his blood and there was nothing I wanted more than to break his nose and teeth, to split his lip and bruise his face.

I wanted to make him suffer for insinuating that I paid her to love me.

"Hit me," Max invited, his eyes fixed on the black stitches through my swollen palm. "But it changes nothing. Perhaps you haven't paid her yet, but marriage will certainly quell her debts."

I felt the slight smile of satisfaction slip away. What in the hell was he talking about?

"You are a composer, are you not?" Max asked, lifting a brow. "One who has a steady income and is more than willing to take in a desperate woman and her only child." Max took a deep breath through his nose. "How charitable, how very charitable indeed. Of both of you, honestly. She gives a lonely man company, and you provide for her for the remainder of her life."

Max glanced over my shoulder and I turned to see what he was staring at.

"Isn't that so, Julia? Or have you told him about your lack of funds? Surely you would tell the man who has asked for your hand how your money has dwindled, how each month you linger closer and closer to selling your home? I walked to the bank today. You best marry this man soon, lest you wish to lose your house."

Julia shook her head. "Stop it, Max."

"When did you propose?" Max asked.

My hand slipped away from his throat.

"Julia, you said nothing of an engagement. After months and months of me promising I would pay her a visit, and my dear sister continuing to tell me her finances were in order, I finally decided to see for myself. It's a good thing I came when I did, isn't it, Julia?"

Julia didn't reply. I could feel her presence behind me but didn't dare turn, as I had no desire to take my watchful gaze from Max. He had continued to stare at my injured hand, considering whether or not I was foolish enough to injure myself again for the chance to cause him pain.

"How long, Julia? How long have you been engaged to this…man?" Max inquired making the last word sound incredulous. "Answer me."

She hesitated, though I knew if she met the intensity of his gaze she would surely answer. His small, blue eyes glinted in a way that was almost hypnotizing. With his size alone he demanded authority, but his eyes added something beyond description. Cruelty, I thought. He looked almost savage when he glared at Julia.

"Max, I love him," Julia said, pleading with him to leave her be.

"How long, Julia?"

"Today," she whispered.

Max's strong jaw raised and he turned his gaze back to me briefly, his eyes shamelessly sweeping across the right side of my face. The corners of his eyes twitched in revulsion, his head slightly shaking as though he couldn't possibly comprehend what he was hearing.

"He asked for your hand today?"

Julia must have nodded because Max stared at her again, searching her with a poisonous glare I imagined the matador gives a weakened bull before driving the sword through the beast's shoulders, impaling the heart.

"Today," Max mused, tapping his finger against his chin. "The day after the bank came to your door to collect the money you owe."

"Stop it, Max. Stop this."

"Julia, you poor, desperate woman. Surely you weren't attempting to hold out for as long as possible to avoid marriage, were you?" He paused, giving her a moment to plead her case. Her answer was a small sob, one which did not answer his question or the ones buzzing through my mind.

"I cannot imagine my own sister stooping so low, though I suppose every day a young woman takes an older, wealthier man as her lover and benefactor. Was there no one else, dear sister? No old man willing to take you in? Or was this the first warm body you found?"

My eyes burrowed an invisible hole between his beady eyes. His insinuations were far too much to bear. If he uttered another word I would pound his skull to dust. Julia loved me. She told me she loved me and she knew how much I loved her. We were finally engaged to be married. Finally! Forty-two years of life and I now had the prospect of marriage so close at hand I could feel it, taste the sweetness of knowing at long last I would not spend my days alone.

Everything Max said threatened that elusive happiness. I would not tolerate it. I would not be denied what I wished to keep, what I had finally won after years of fruitless, foolish pursuits.

She loved me. She had to love me. I refused to believe it was all a lie, that the only other woman I had in my life was as deceptive as the first I thought I loved. I could not have entered another labyrinth of hell. Julia had been my paradise for so long.

A smiled eased onto Max's face again, one which said more than I was willing to hear. He knew my apprehensions, slight as they were, and he would use even the smallest doubt to his advantage.

He would pay with his life for anything he dared to say to me. I would have his blood on my hands if he uttered another damned word. My eyes settled on his and I dared him to tempt me, to give me reason to kill him.

"Well," he said.

That was all he was able to say. I saved my right hand and drew back my left hand, hammering him directly in the nose. His head snapped to the side, blood spurting from the broken veins in his nostrils. Before he had time to react I hit him twice in the temple, driving him to the ground.

I was prepared to kick him in the head and shatter his skull, but Julia attempted to drag me back from the bloodied unconscious heap on my floor. I suddenly heard Meg and Madeline shrieking and glanced behind. Ruby had her hand over her mouth, her eyes so wide I thought they would pop from the sockets. Madeline had covered her daughter's face, shielding her from my actions. I felt no guilt, no remorse whatsoever. My only regret was that he didn't die instantly when his head hit the floor.

"I don't want you to kill him," Julia pleaded. "Please don't—"

"Why?" I asked her through my teeth, my left hand starting to throb from the damage I had done to him. My heart was pounding, muscles waiting to react now that adrenaline was pumping through my veins.

"Because…" she said, glancing away.

Something within me changed. Her plea angered me much more than I would have expected. My eyes narrowed on her oval face, and unbidden words left my mouth, ones which had unknown origins.

"You don't want me to kill him because he's telling the truth?"

Her expression changed. She looked at me with tear-filled eyes, her shoulders slumped and mouth turned down in the deepest, most painful frown I had ever seen.

Her silence alarmed me. I could not imagine her playing a game, playing me for a desperate fool. Without a word I turned my back to her and took a deep breath, attempting to clear my mind.

A sharp pain ripped through my stomach, accompanied by the sting of gathering tears in my eyes. If it was at all possible to die from a broken heart, her next words most certainly had the power to fell me where I stood.

"Answer me," I said, not bothering to look at her. "Answer me at once."


	60. Possession

Ghost60

All of my life I had wanted affection, and always it had eluded me, tempting and denying me year by hellish year. In hindsight I had seen each wrong turn with Christine Daae, but with Julia I thought it had all been different. At last—at long last—I thought I had found the woman who would accept me, who would love me without question and who would cherish the affection I felt for her.

She could not be so cruel. She would not have held a dagger beneath her cloak all these years. That thought was too much to bear. More than Julia, I doubted myself. I knew she was capable of loving, but perhaps asking her to endure a lifetime with a monster was too much. Perhaps I had turned a blind eye, perhaps I was the biggest damned fool in the world.

"Erik—"

"The study," I said, barely able to breath. I glanced at Max, who had not regained consciousness. He had hit his head on the floor and I hoped he would be out for quite some time.

"What shall we do with him?" Ruby asked as she tiptoed down the hallway. "If he wakes?" she added, chewing on her bottom lip as she stared at him.

"Stick him like a pig," I muttered, turning away from her, my vision becoming red.

With the commotion at an end, Aria pranced down the hall, her tail a question mark as she investigated. She tiptoed toward Max's body before she paused, one paw in the air and her ears flat to her skull. Slowly, her back bowed and she turned, scampering around the corner and upstairs.

I crouched down beside his body and patted down his left and right legs, finding a switchblade on his belt and another knife hidden in his boot, both of which I kept in my possession. It crossed my mind that I should have stabbed him through the heart, though my problems with Julia would have grown rather than diminished.

Julia, who had yet to give me an answer.

I looked at Ruby and Madeline, who were huddled together at the end of the hall. Meg had been moved either outside or into the kitchen, as she was no longer present.

"See that Charles and Alex are elsewhere before he wakes. Scream if he should start to rise," I told them.

Ruby and Madeline both nodded, their faces taut and complexions pale as sheets.

Julia followed behind me in silence. Her head was bowed as we entered through the doorway, and I heard her attempting to stop herself from sobbing.

We stood in silence with our backs to one another, both of us struggling to keep our composure. She said nothing even after I locked the door, and I wondered if she felt a twinge of fear curling in her belly, as she knew full well that I was agitated. I wondered if she expected my hand to fly on its own even though I had never struck her in the past. I wasn't certain how I would react even if she did confess that our time together had been a ruse.

It killed me to think she could be so cruel, so completely poisonous. I knew in the beginning that our relationship was merely one of pleasure. I had come to her to sate myself, and she invited me over for the same reason.

But I knew her now. I knew her better than I knew any other woman, or so I had assumed. I wondered if this all would have been easier if she were nothing more to me than a placee, a simple mistress for my nights.

The early years of our relationship brought me little joy. It felt undignified to come to her in the night and lay with her. Even when I lived beneath the opera house I could have entertained myself in the company of a whore, but I wanted more than physical pleasure. I wanted to feel something, something deeper than mere rutting. I wanted to know what it was like to court a woman and to take a wife, to have a partner for life who loved me as I knew I was capable of loving her.

Capable, I mused. I knew—I had always known, even in the days when I was unfamiliar with a kind hand or word—that I could love someone. Perhaps it was something primal, something deep in my heart rather than something learned. I knew what I wanted in my life and what I wanted was Julia.

I only wished she wanted me as well.

I asked too much of her.

"I do not blame you," I said suddenly, my eyes closing briefly to stop myself from sobbing. "You've been good to me. All of these years you have been good to me, better than anyone has ever been. Save, perhaps, Madeline, who has endured my worst days, I think. But you…you have been exceptional."

"Look at me, Erik. If you want my answer then look me in the eye and tell me what you see," Julia said, her voice quivering with each word.

I hesitated. It terrified me to think that in forty years I had never experienced love. Christine had been quite cruel. I didn't want to know that Julia had also lured me into a trap.

"For God's sake, if I wanted your money I would have taken it," Julia whispered.

She moved closer and stood directly behind me with her arms folded over her chest and an expression on her face that showed she was quite possibly in greater pain than I. For a moment I watched her in the wall mirror, my eyes so glassy that her image was distorted.

I rubbed my hand over my forehead and felt the remnant of the scar Monsieur de Chagny left me with following our first encounter in years. The stitches had healed well, though the mark was reminder enough of the time I had spent in Julia's home.

With my index finger still tracing the scar, I turned and faced Julia.

She didn't need to utter a word. I knew her intentions the moment I looked into her eyes, recalling our time together. If she had wanted my money she would have taken it the night I offered her my funds.

"The guest room," I mumbled. "The night Alex disappeared…when…I thought the Vicomte would send the gendarmes."

She nodded, stepping closer as the tears streamed down her face.

I had given her the opportunity months ago to leave me for dead, to share my finances with Madeline and Meg. She had refused me that night, that night when she knew already that her own funds were depleted. After tolerating me in her home she could have quietly agreed and I wouldn't have thought ill of her. She deserved something, some reward for offering her affection to a lonely man with half a face. I remembered wanting her to have something once I was gone, to repay her for the years she had lost on my account.

But she refused. She had wanted me, not money. For the first time in my life I was wanted—genuinely wanted. How had I forgotten how deeply I loved her, and how she had always returned my adoration?

"Why didn't you tell me? If you needed money—"

Julia shook her head. "I don't want your money. I've been sewing, mending clothes and making dresses" she said. "Hermine, Archie, Monsieur Redoir, Madame Leske, they have all had labor for me and I—"

I took her hand in mine and looked her in the eye. She frowned and bowed her head again as I studied her right hand.

Her fingers were red and swollen, the skin cracked at her fingertips. My eyes closed to her injury, though I kept her hand in mine.

"I wish you trusted me," Julia whispered. "I wish you knew how much I love you. My brother—"

"Is a damned liar," I said through my teeth. If he had been standing before me I would have snapped his fat neck.

"He's protective," Julia replied, refusing to look me in the eye.

"No, Julia, he's not protecting you. He's held sway over you for far too long. What does he say to you when you're alone? Does he threaten you?"

She shook her head so lightly that I could barely see the gesture.

"Does he hit you?"

"Not for many years," she said under her breath.

I exhaled hard and flexed my left hand, which had swollen from hitting her brother. I couldn't help but wonder if she lied to me to protect him, but I had no desire to argue with her. In time I hoped to have a moment alone with Max Falchetti. He would confess everything to me before I stole his last breath and stamped out his last heartbeat. He deserved as much for placing Julia in harm's way rather than protecting her.

My eyes hardened as I stared at her. "But he frightens you, doesn't he?"

"He will leave soon," Julia said, wringing her hands as she shifted her weight. "In a few days he will tire of being here and return to Italy."

"No," I said shaking my head. "He won't leave you. Not until you're married to a man he finds suitable. To a man like Louis."

Julia nodded but didn't reply and I saw the tears forming in her eyes again. She inched forward, one hand over her mouth as I caught her in my arms and held her tight.

I knew what she felt inside. Her brother reminded me too much of my childhood and the ferocious man I thought was a mountain. The way Max stood and spoke were reflections of the man I thought I would never see again, the man who terrorized and terrified me from the moment I learned the meaning of fear.

There was no time for weakness or fear on my part. I had to defend what was mine, what I loved most in the world. My family. The missing parts of the family I had wanted all my life were in jeopardy.

"He will leave today," I said firmly as I drew her back and looked her over. She said nothing as I stormed toward the door. "And he will never return to your home or Paris or anywhere in France as long as we live here."

"Erik, please," Julia begged. "Let me speak with him. I can persuade him—"

"You cannot persuade men like him," I said, my eyes filling with hatred for the man I assumed was still lying on my floor. I knew from the man my father had been that there was little that could be done. No amount of begging or reasoning could end such ignorance, such abomination for something they didn't understand. Max wanted control over Julia, which he had held for many years. Though I had no intention of controlling her, I needed to make her mine.

I would make her mine.

"You will be my wife," I said as I turned and jerked the door open, the heat of my rage rising up my neck and ears. "Whether he agrees or not."

I had every intention of grabbing Max by the shoulders and tossing him out my front door. He belonged in the sewer where he could rot for all eternity. He was lower than vermin in my eyes. I promised myself that if he struggled I would put a knife through his throat and watch him drown on his own blood.

"Erik, you cannot kill him," Julia said, grabbing me by the shoulder before I was halfway down the hall. "He's still my brother. No matter what, he's still my brother."

I glanced back to tell her to stay put when I heard the most blood-chilling scream coming from the front door.

When I entered, Max was gone.

"What happened?" I asked as Ruby raced through the front door.

"Lisette," she said breathlessly. "Lisette returned with Mademoiselle Leach. I thought he was still unconscious, I thought—"

"Where is Lisette?" I demanded.

Ruby pursed her lips. "She ran from him. They both did."

He would receive no mercy from me if Lisette were injured. Though I didn't care much for her, if he harmed Mademoiselle Leach he would pay dearly.

"Stay here," I said, looking from Julia to Ruby. "And keep Alex inside."

"Alex is with them," Ruby blurted out. "He came around the back and…Monsieur, I tried to stop him, really I did but…"

I gave a curt nod before I snatched my cloak and hat and disappeared onto the streets of Paris, leaving my home in broad daylight for the first time in many, many years.


	61. Searching

I have returned!

Ghost61

The sun was already setting as I fastened my cloak and tossed my hood over my head. Ruby was behind me, as was Julia, who was praying for the children's safety, as well as her friend.

Madeline was still inside the house, so the only people within my household unaccounted for were Meg and Charles.

"Where is Meg?" I asked, not bothering to turn to face Julia or Ruby.

"I—I'm not certain, Monsieur. She was in the garden with Charles—"

"Where is Charles?" I asked, turning on my heel, my patience waning.

Ruby merely pointed toward the back gate. I glanced at her, seeing the fear in her eyes. As I rounded the corner and opened the back gate I wondered if she would draft her resignation from my household by the end of the evening.

"I will look for Alex and Lisette," Ruby said as she gathered up her skirts.

"Stay with Julia," I demanded as I forced the gate open. "Neither of you are to leave this property, is that understood?"

She nodded, her lips pursed. "Yes, Monsieur," she said as she turned and walked toward Julia, who had begun to cry.

Charles was on the ground when I entered the back garden. His wheelchair was on its side, one wheel split. He lay flat on his back, his useless legs turned out, his arms too weak to prop him upright. His face was pale against his black hair, dried tracks on his face evidence of the tears he had shed. Despite being confined to his chair, Charles had always struck me as a dignified man, a brave soldier to the end.

The look on his face showed fear beyond measure. He was clearly humiliated by the state in which I found him. I could hear Ruby and Julia speaking and turned back to the gate, telling them to remain outside the gate, lest their presence compound his shame.

"Meg's gone," he said as I sat his chair upright. "My wife is gone. Your son…"

"What happened?" I asked.

Charles nodded and ran his hand over his face. "I…I'm not certain, Monsieur. Everything happened so quickly. We were on the ramp that you and Alex built, and I was speaking to Alex while he was behind me. I think it was about his lessons in Greek mythology, but I may be mistaken. I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?"

"What happened to Alex?" I asked again.

"I had turned away to ask Meg if she was cold just as the gate opened."

"Did he come into the garden? Did Max Falchetti come into this yard?" I asked through my teeth.

"No, Monsieur, it was Lisette. She was running from him. She and Mademoiselle Leach both ran away, and Alex…he was behind me, Monsieur, and they were all screaming. I didn't know what to do, so I held onto his shirt, but then…I don't know."

He bowed his head and raised his hand, silently begging me for a moment to harness his emotions.

"Did you see him?" I asked once he returned his handkerchief to his pocket.

"Briefly. I believe Alex hit him with a rock, though I could be mistaken. There was a great deal of commotion before…before I fell."

I bent down and grasped Charles' hand, assisting him in sitting upright. He looked me in the eye, his shame palpable as I prepared to lift him and set him into his chair.

"It's broken," he said suddenly, his eyes locked on the crooked wheelchair. "I tried to follow them, Monsieur. I thought I could…but I couldn't. I couldn't do it. The wheel…my arms are weaker than they should be, I couldn't…I couldn't do it."

I considered leaving him in his broken chair while I searched for Alex, Lisette, and Mademoiselle Leach, but I couldn't bear to think of him sitting alone in the back garden as darkness fell. He deserved to have at least a scrap of his dignity spared. If there had been anything he could have done he would have done it. He would have done whatever was necessary to keep his wife, their child, and my son out of harm's way.

"With haste, Monsieur," I said as I prepared to lift him. I glanced up and saw Madeline standing at the top of the back stairs. She frowned, her eyes a mixture of sympathy and apprehension, as her son-in-law remained while her daughter was missing.

"Retrieve Monsieur Lowry's old chair," I instructed. Madeline nodded and ran into the house, limping terribly on her bad knee.

"Find them," Charles said. "Leave me, Monsieur. I don't care if I'm out here all night, just find them."

I knew he was concerned for Meg, as her condition was sensitive. Of all the people in the world I considered Charles amongst the least deserving of the hardships he endured.

"She's fine," I assured him. "Your wife and your son are both fine."

"A son," Charles whispered. "The midwife assured us we would have a daughter. But a son, Monsieur, I would greatly appreciate a son. A daughter as well, really. Any child. Any child at all."

"Either way the child will ask you more questions than you have answers for, Charles," I said.

"I suppose you're correct," he chuckled. "Though I'll answer every one."

Charles tensed as I put my arms beneath his and lifted him from the ground. His feet dragged along the stone path as I moved him to the old wheelchair I had used briefly. Madeline assisted, and once Charles was seated she wheeled him toward the ramp.

"I apologize, Monsieur," Charles said balefully, unwilling to look me in the eye.

"There is only one man who will apologize before this day is over," I seethed as I walked through the gate again.

I rounded the corner and nearly collided with Monsieur Leach. He stared at me a moment as he stood bent at the waist, his hand pressed firmly to his kneecap. A sheen of sweat covered his red face, and before he said a word I knew he had seen Max.

"Which way?" I asked.

He pointed to his right, toward his home. If they were within his home I assumed everyone was safe and that Max had given up chase. However it didn't seem to be in Monsieur Falchetti's nature to give up so easily, nor Monsieur Leach's to leave his sister, two children, and an expectant mother alone.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, but after coughing into the crook of his arm he straightened and nodded to me. "He returned home," he wheezed in broken French. "He chased them down the block, all bloody-headed. You did a number on him, Monsieur Kire, a real number on him. I don't know if he made it to his own home, but frankly I'm not…" he cleared his throat, seeing the women come nearer. "Concerned," Archie added under his breath.

He coughed again, so I instructed Ruby to fetch him a glass of water. She mumbled something about Monsieur Testan to Julia, who remained nearby, her brow furrowed as she clasped her hands and continued to pray.

"He would help, don't you think?" Ruby asked Julia.

Julia merely shrugged. She folded her arms and turned away, finding Madeline rounding the corner. Their argument forgotten, the two of them embraced and I heard them both weeping as they clung to one another, both mothers concerned for their daughters.

"Where are they?" I asked as I turned to face Archie. "Did you see them?"

"Yes, I saw them and I can guarantee you that they are safe," he answered. "For now they are safe."

I would only believe it when I saw the four of them with my own eyes.

"Monsieur Leach—"

"The fair," he answered. "Meanie told them it was a game and that they had to run away from Uncle Max, though I doubt they believed her, what with all the yelling and carrying on. Poor children, poor, poor children," he said as he shook his head. "The old girl thought it would be best to keep them well-occupied somewhere. If he comes near them, I'm certain she will scream. Have you heard her scream? It's like a cat being skinned alive."

"It would not matter if the entire French navy confronted him. I want my son, Julia's daughter, and Meg Lowry home at once," I ordered.

"Monsieur, it would be quite impossible for me to find them. Please understand, Monsieur, that there are buildings, exhibits, and many, many people. Now if we wait for them—"

"I will not wait," I said as I turned away from him. "I will not wait another damned minute."

"Erik, where are you going?" Julia asked as she followed me toward the street.

"To the fair," I said over my shoulder. "To that damned World's Fair."

She blocked my way, her hands held out as though she had the power to stop me where I stood.

"There is someone," she said. "Someone who could help."


	62. Alliances

Ghost62

"There is no time to seek help from others," I muttered, side-stepping Julia. "I will do this my own damned self."

Julia moved with me. "I know you want to find them, and it's very admirable, but forget your pride for one moment and listen to me."

Her stubbornness and insistence irritated me. As much as I regretted having to mistreat her, time was of the essence. I needed to use size and strength against her, physically move her if necessary. My mindset was such that I had no qualms about locking her in my study until everyone was returned safely.

"Julia, move or I will be forced to lock you away, you stubborn woman, now listen to reason—"

"No, you listen to me," she begged. "There is someone who may be able to help us, someone I can contact."

"No." I started to walk past her but she held on to my arm, digging her nails into my bicep until I shook her loose.

"Erik, please listen to me."

I glared at her, my nostrils flaring and body rigid. It was my fault that Meg, Alex, Lisette, and Hermine were being hunted. I would not stand idle, I would not tuck my tail between my legs and beg for assistance. She didn't understand a man's pride. For the majority of my life no one had ever expected anything from me. This was my chance, my time to do something and I would not fail—not against Max Falchetti.

"Who would you send me to, Julia? You want me to call upon de Chagny? Is that what you want? For me to call upon the precious little Vicomte?" I challenged. "I will not accept his help. I do not need his help."

She shook her head. "I know you don't need his help."

"Then who do you want me to crawl to? Who has more competence?"

"This isn't a question of competence, Erik. It's about forming an alliance, and you need one…"

Julia glanced away. Her face paled as she considered her thoughts. She looked to Archie, who nodded, silently reassuring her.

"You need an ally against Max," she said as she hung her head.

It killed her to betray her family, but I knew she understood that first and foremost she needed to protect her daughter and my son. We would have a family together. We did have a family, despite the lack of rings and vows.

"An alliance?" I questioned, relenting slightly as she followed me down the street. "With whom?"

"My uncle."

I sighed in disgust and came to a stop at the end of the street. Darkness was falling fast, and across the street an old man was busy lighting the lamps. He glanced at us briefly as I spoke, my hands on my hips. "Another member of your family? Absolutely not, Julia—"

"He was the head of our family until he…his health deteriorated. After my parents died Max offered assistance and my uncle agreed because Max was the most level-headed male in the family. He had cared for my parents—or rather he had overseen as my sister, Marie, tended to them when they were both ill, and my uncle assumed that my brother would assist him in any way possible. It was the worst mistake my uncle ever made. But I know Uncle Luc would do anything for me. If I ask him…"

"No."

"He will help you," Julia persisted. "He owns an opera house, he appreciates music. Once he sees that there could potentially be another artist in the family…"

My heart paused. A crack must have formed in the earth and I had apparently plummeted into hell. I grit my teeth, slowly but surely giving myself a tension headache. I knew without her saying who she referred to and it did nothing for my nerves.

"Testan?" I questioned.

Julia blinked then slowly nodded, obviously aware of my utter disgust for the man. I'll be damned. Her uncle was that stupid pig who didn't know a cello from a bassoon. I shook my head and walked away from her.

"Luc Testan is your uncle?"

"Yes, he's my mother's brother."

"Why haven't you mentioned him before?"

"Because I rarely see him."

"Close then, are you?" I said dryly.

"That's unfair of you to say. He rarely leaves his home. You, of all people, should sympathize," Julia retorted. Her voice lowered when she spoke next. "You speak of how no one was willing to give you a chance yet you do the same thing."

I made no reply, though it irritated me that she was comparing me to her recluse uncle who wouldn't know talent if it slapped him in the face.

"He's the only Testan remaining, and he's always been fond of me and Marie, and Lisette, although he has only seen her once or twice. If I were to ask him for his help I believe he would assist me in any way possible. Especially for Lisette, and if I told him I was engaged to a musician…"

"Whom he hates," I muttered under my breath, my blood boiling. Of all people! Of all damned people! She was related to Luc Testan, the tone-deaf music reviewer and all-around dolt of Paris.

"Nonsense," Julia said. "Why, you haven't even met him."

"No, but I've read his reviews."

Julia looked from me to Ruby, who wisely shrugged and eliminated herself from further conversation. Ruby turned to Archie, who stepped forward and placed his hand on Julia's shoulder.

"I've heard Monsieur Testan say that he wasn't fond of Monsieur Kire's work, but perhaps it was a comment he now regrets. I'm certain that if they met your uncle would find Monsieur Kire to be quite the delight."

I glared at Archie. "I write music as well as a barnyard sow," I said bitterly. "How delightful. Perhaps one day, if I practice enough, I will be able to accomplish skills comparable to a damned headless chicken!" I finished, my voice rising into a growl at the end.

Archie wisely backed away and crossed his arms. "You never know," he said under his breath like the ridiculous optimist he was. "He may change his mind."

I had no time for optimism. I looked forward to strangling Max.

Julia's shoulders dropped as she watched her plan for an alliance slip away. She pursed her lips, her eyes searching my face for answers.

"Call upon your uncle if you wish. I'm finding our children," I said as I stormed away.

Archie shouted as he ran after me, and I slowed my pace enough for him to catch up. If his sister hadn't been missing I would have had no qualms about leaving him behind, but he had his own reasons for wanting to see Max again.

"Do you know the fairgrounds?" he panted as we rounded the corner.

"How in the hell would I know the fairgrounds?" I snapped.

His pace slowed. "It was merely a question, Monsieur," he replied.

With a deep breath I reminded myself that Archie was not my enemy. As someone who had frequented the fairgrounds he was my only hope of navigating swiftly along the Champs de Mars.

"Where would they have gone?" I asked, doing everything I could to control my temper.

"Well, that's the trouble, Monsieur. There's quite a lot of ground to cover, and in the dark no less. I suppose they would have stayed together…"

My pace slowed as I turned to him. Already I could see the Eiffel tower pricking the darkened sky. "Two children, one woman with compromised health, and your sister," I said. "Against…him."

Archie nodded. "True, but you gave him a fairly good knock to his empty head, I dare say, Monsieur. His stamina is questionable," he said as he snapped his fingers. "And there is the chance that he would have been denied admission with his bleeding head. Yes, Monsieur! Yes, I do think he would have been turned away—or at least delayed. Why, I would say there is nothing to worry about—"

"Unless he caught up with them before they reached the grounds," I added.

"There is only one way to find out," Archie replied as he stared straight ahead.

We suddenly stood before the entrance, with crowds of people swarming around. With a nod I stepped forward and lowered my eyes, realizing for the first time what I was doing.

And who I was doing it for.

"Admit two," I said to the young man selling tickets.

He handed the tickets to me without question, and just like that we were within the largest gathering in the world.


	63. The Right Side

Ghost63

As I walked further into the fairgrounds the world slowly started to close in on me. I became acutely aware of the cacophony of the crowd, the lights from the buildings, and the closeness of the air.

One by one my fears slowly wrapped their fingers around my throat. Each taunt, each beating surged into my memory as I tugged my hood over my eyes, fearing someone would take notice.

"A bit chilly by the fountain, isn't it?" Archie asked.

I grunted, noticing he was limping more than usual. The long walk must have bothered his knee where what remained of his leg met the artificial one. His face looked taut, his body rigid, but I didn't say a word about it.

A young child ran between us, shrieking with laughter as he joined his mother, who apologized without looking at Archie or me. The boy, who could have been no older than six years of age, glanced back and made a face before his mother tugged him along.

It was dark enough that I was certain he could not have seen my face, yet still I wished I had brought my mask. It was foolish to have walked from my home without it, but I had been in a rage, my only thoughts concerning the children, Meg, and even Hermine. Already I had spent far too much time arguing with Julia over her dreadful uncle.

But when I glanced at the numerous buildings, all holding exhibits and inventions I had never seen before, I longed to venture inside. If there were not lives at stake, I would have enjoyed seeing what I had only read about in the papers. I wasn't sure if I was more disappointed or angered that I had stayed far from the rest of society.

"I will go inside, if you wouldn't mind," Archie said, perhaps sensing my apprehensions.

"What is this?" I asked as I stared at the open doors of a building. There were people coming in and out, though I couldn't find a name for this particular exhibit.

"It contains all the new machinery, the inventions and such. Sugar refinery, I believe, if that interests you," he answered. "Would you like to walk inside? I overheard Alex say that he found this building particularly interesting after the two of you built Monsieur Lowry's ramp."

I nodded. He had spoken of it incessantly over breakfast. He seemed to have memorized the building's layout, and I was certain that I could find my way through with my eyes closed.

"Would you care to join me, Monsieur?"

"No," I said. "I'll wait here."

Here in the shadows, I thought to add. I would remain in darkness as always because I couldn't bear to walk into a crowded, well-lit room. Enough years had passed that I assumed my legend within the opera house had faded into myth. I was not the only man in the world who wore a mask, I knew, but whereas some covered the results of warfare and illness, my scars were those of birth, marks some thought to be a curse or the touch of the devil. I had once embraced my maker, searching deep for the devil that had given me my face.

"Good," Archie replied. "I will look for him alone."

With that he nodded and made his way up the stairs. He paused at the entrance, bent at the waist, and reached into his coat pocket. I watched as he disappeared into the crowd. There was something strange about his tone, though I didn't know him well enough to gage him properly.

The noise from the crowd returned, and I stood very still as I waited for Archie to return. I stood so still that I heard a young woman ask her husband if I was a statue. Her comment caused me to shift, as I had no desire for anyone to go about pulling away my hood or tugging at my cloak.

Each second that passed furthered my anxiety until I thought to hell with it. If I needed to search every building from the floor to the rooftop, so be it. I had wasted my life as a hermit. I would not waste the lives of my son, daughter, and sister.

My family. My mouth dropped open. I was searching for my family.

"Father would be so pleased!"

Alex. That was Alex. I spun on my heel, my eyes wide as I searched the crowd for him. Where had that voice come from?

I glanced over my shoulder at the building Archie had entered but he had not yet returned. He was a grown man, I reasoned. He could find his way home. I needed to find Alex.

Against my better judgment I called his name. I waited, my breath held, my eyes still searching from beneath my hood. I counted three seconds in my head and called him again.

"Father?" I heard him say.

There were too many faces, too many voices and distractions for me to pinpoint his location. I walked in the direction of his voice. Darting in and out of the crowd, I found myself once again before the fountain.

"Alex," I called again.

He answered by running into me, his arms wrapped around my hips. "You're here! You're here at the expedition!" he shouted.

"Exposition," I corrected, though he didn't seem to notice.

"What are you doing here? How did you know where to find it?" he continued, his voice far louder than it needed to be.

People walking by paused to see what the fuss was. They stared a moment before they shook their heads and continued on their way, amused or annoyed by his outburst. Leave it to Alexandre to draw the attention of every man, woman and child in Paris.

"Where is Monsieur Falchetti?" I asked.

Alex furrowed his brow. "I haven't seen him since I threw a rock at him. I hit him right between the eyes! Meanie said I have a very good arm. She said that in America, there's this game where they throw balls at a man with a stick and—"

"Where are the others?" I asked as I bent down to look him over. If there was even a scratch on my child, Max would pay with his life.

He looked disappointed that I didn't want to hear his lecture concerning baseball, but he answered nonetheless. "Aunt Meg is resting. Hermine and Lisette are there," he said as he pointed toward the opposite end of the fountain where I saw Hermine wave. She and Lisette were eating ice cream. Neither one appeared to be injured.

"Why did you leave Meg?" I asked. I didn't like the idea of her being alone. Aside from her health, Meg still seemed a child to me. I always thought of her as someone who needed to be coddled and protected. I still saw the frightened ballerina tip-toeing down the hall, not a married woman who cared for herself and her husband.

Alex shrugged. "She couldn't stand anymore. She wasn't feeling well, what with the running and all."

"You left her alone?"

Alex shook his head. "We ran into Monsieur Kite! Can you believe it? Monsieur Kite is at the fair!"

It took a moment for the name to register, but once I recalled that Monsieur Kite was one of Charles' friends my mind was put at ease. The likelihood of Max attacking Meg in the middle of a crowd seemed unlikely.

The walk home was a greater concern. Max would have time to regroup, to devise a plan. And arm himself, I thought rather anxiously.

Alex and I walked around the fountain to join Hermine and Lisette, who were studying the various statues.

"Have you seen him?" I asked Hermine, drawing my hood up enough for her to see my eyes.

Hermine stepped in closer to me and looked at my collar. "It's a game," she whispered. "As to not frighten the children I told them we were playing a game. It calmed them down once we lost sight of that man."

I stepped back and nodded. "Stay here," I said. I nodded toward the building Archie had entered. "Your brother is in there searching for Monsieur Falchetti."

Her face sobered a moment but she nodded and clutched Lisette closer to her side.

"Oh, we won't be going anywhere," Mademoiselle Leach promised, her tone still jovial. I knew by her eyes that she was frightened, though she didn't want to alarm Lisette and Alex. "The fountain lights up at nine p.m. and I promised Lisette we would see it. You should see it as well. It changes colors and everything."

"Another night," I replied.

She ran her hand over Lisette's hair and kissed the top of her head. "Archie would just love to see this again. We'll find him right this moment."

"Very well. Meg should return home." I turned to my son. "Take me to her."

With a nod Alex grabbed my wrist and led me through the crowd.

He shoved several people aside, excusing himself with each step he took until we stood several yards from the Eiffel Tower.

There Meg sat on a park bench with her hands over her abdomen and her head down. Monsieur Kite rose to his feet the moment he spotted us. He removed his hat and squinted at me in the darkness.

"This is my father, Monsieur Erik M. Kire," Alex said as he pulled me forward. We shook hands without me lowering my hood, and though I saw the suspicion in his eyes, Monsieur Kite had the good sense not to question me.

"Father, this is Uncle Charles' friend, Monsieur Kite."

Kite, who was at least a decade older than Charles, smiled warmly. "Good to see you, Monsieur Kire. I do believe Madame Lowry is ready to return home. I believe she has had about enough of this fair for one night, isn't that so, Madame?"

I nodded and turned my attention to Meg, who had not moved from where she sat. My concerns instantly escalated, as she had made no attempt to acknowledge our presence.

My first thought was her child. She was not yet close enough for her son or daughter to survive past birth, and I feared the long walk home would be detrimental to her health and well-being.

"She needs a cab," I said, glancing at Kite. "A vis-à-vis if possible."

Monsieur Kite nodded and turned away. Before he disappeared I felt a tug on my pant leg, which drew my attention back to Meg.

"You look terrible," I said once she looked up at me.

A slight smile crossed her face. "Always one for words," she said, her voice sounding strained. She looked to Alex, who had moved a few feet away so he could examine the Eiffel Tower.

I noticed she was shivering, and I wondered if the fountain beneath the Tower was to blame, or more likely the Seine. It wasn't a particularly cold evening, so I suspected it was from her nerves more than anything.

"Would you like my cloak?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I want to go home. I'm worried about Mother, about Charles…" she covered her face as she started to sob.

I didn't know what to do for her. It was possible that she would cry a while and calm herself, though I couldn't bear sitting beside her when she was so emotional.

I shushed her as I placed my hand on her back. She immediately rested her head against my chest, burying her face against my shirt and waistcoat, her fist clutching my shirt cuff until her hand found mine.

"He fell," she sobbed, her voice muffled by my chest. "I know he fell…and we left him. How horrible, how absolutely dreadful that I left him there."

There was nothing I could say to her words, so I merely sat and did what I could to be of assistance, to comfort her as I had never done before. She held onto my hand so tightly that it hurt, yet I couldn't ask her to release me. There was something strangely satisfying about having her trust—and me having hers as well. I felt as though I was protecting my family. Indeed I was.

"You did nothing wrong," I said at last. "Charles would rather protect his wife and son than himself. If you had stayed he would never forgive himself."

"I can't forgive myself," she whispered as she looked up at me.

"There is nothing to forgive," I said. I touched her cheek and her eyes closed, squeezing out more tears. "You're as cold as ice. Come, you must return home at once."

"But what about Hermine and Lisette?"

"Monsieur Leach will escort them. I've called for a cab. When we walk past the fountain I will tell them to join us," I said.

Meg nodded and sat upright. She looked at me a moment, her lips still quivering, her face still stained with tears. She said nothing as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you," she said. "For coming after me. For coming for us."

"A man treats his family with respect," I said as I rose to my feet and helped her to stand.

"Where do you think he is?" she asked.

I didn't answer her immediately. I assumed Max had returned home but I had no way of knowing for certain. I wanted to return at once to make certain he had not entered my home again.

"Erik?" she questioned.

"If he's got a shred of intelligence he won't be anywhere near my home," I assured her.

She nodded and held onto me as we walked, and once Alex noticed how she struggled he came up alongside her and put her arm over his shoulders. We walked in silence and all I could think of was that she had kissed me on the cheek.

On the right side, not the left.


	64. A Man Found

Ghost64

Alfred Kite and Alex assisted Meg into the carriage once we found Lisette and Hermine near the fountain. I told Alfred to keep the carriage waiting a moment longer and handed him the money to pay for our ride home. He didn't question me, but as we stood beneath a street lamp he tried very hard to see beneath my hood.

There was no time to be offended by his curiosity. I needed to return home with everyone who had gone missing.

"Where is your brother?" I asked Hermine once I wove my path through the crowd.

It annoyed me that there were people all around bumping into one another like a herd of cattle. I wanted to be out of the damned fair and back into my home at once.

Hermine shook her head. "We looked for him in a few buildings but did not see him. I thought maybe he was searching for you."

I sighed in disgust, though I suppose it was my own fault for not waiting for him as I had promised. I glanced behind myself at the entrance gates before I turned back to Hermine. Time was running out. I didn't like the feeling that was churning through my insides. Something wasn't right.

"Meg must return home at once. Our carriage is waiting."

Hermine continued to watch the water spray out of the fountain as if it were the most interesting spectacle she had ever seen. The woman was so easily amused at a time when we needed to be on our guard. She was quite fortunate I didn't strangle her for her stupidity.

"We were going to watch the fountain change colors at nine, were we not, Lisette?"

"Yes, we were. Good evening, Monsieur Kire," Lisette said.

I glanced down at her, sweat streaming down my unmasked face. Not knowing where Max was had started to make me exceedingly uncomfortable, and now that Archie had disappeared I wasn't sure what I should do with Hermine and Lisette. I couldn't very well leave them alone at the fair. Not if Max was prowling the grounds.

"Good evening, Lisette," I answered as I looked to Hermine again. "Come with me."

"We should wait for Archie."

"No. Come with me," I insisted. If she argued much longer I would take the girl and leave at once. To hell with Mademoiselle Leach. She could find her own damned way back home.

"May we stay for just a moment?" Lisette whined.

I glared at her though she couldn't see my eyes. She smiled sweetly at me, her wide, blinking eyes filled with innocence.

"I will bring you and your mother for a day at the fair," I said, offering my left hand, as my right hand was still injured. I would have offered her anything to get her into the carriage and home again. "But for now we must return home."

"You will?" she gasped. She latched onto my hand and squeezed it tightly. "You, and Mother, and Alex as well?"

"Yes, yes, now come with me," I said.

"Alex and I can court for the day like you and Mother," she said, sounding absolutely delighted.

"You may do as you wish," I muttered as I led her through the crowd. I glanced back to see if Hermine was following, but she remained behind. When I paused she shook her head and motioned for us to continue.

I tilted my head to the side and considered grabbing her by the arm and dragging her along but I knew there was no telling that silly woman.

With a sigh I walked away from the fountain, my only comfort knowing that Max wasn't interested in obtaining Hermine. He wanted Lisette and Julia.

I didn't look back as we left the fair grounds and entered the waiting cab. Sitting beside Meg, I stared straight ahead and hoped to God that Julia was safe still. She, Madeline, and Charles were no match for Max Falchetti.

-0-

The ride home passed without incident. Meg claimed to feel better once she was seated. Once we were home I would have a doctor called to be certain that the excitement of the day hadn't caused her any harm.

Alex and Lisette fell asleep side by side the moment they were seated. Alex dozed in mid-sentence as he told Lisette about Eiffel's tower, though she was asleep before his story began.

Shortly after the children went silent Meg fell asleep against my arm. It felt as though she weighed twice as much when she was asleep. My arm tingled and my fingers numbed. When I couldn't take it a moment longer I shifted to free myself.

She must have been exhausted, as she didn't wake. She continued to rest with her head against my chest, and the comfort she found in my presence made me relax as well.

I had wasted a great deal of time being a bitter, cynical man. I longed to have back the years when I first came to live with Meg, Madeline, and Charles. While I closed my eyes and waited for the carriage to move through the crowd I wondered how I could have been blind for so long. Most of what I had wanted was within my home all along, but I had refused to acknowledge that they were anything more than servants. Madeline had been far too tolerant of my need to sulk and wallow in pity.

I had missed many years of having someone sleep against my arm, I thought with a smirk as the coach bumbled forward and Meg dug her shoulder into my side. With a grimace I nudged her upright and attempted to prop her against my shoulder. Eventually her head slipped to the opposite side and she was sleeping with her head against the cushioned inside of our carriage.

"Forgive me, Erik."

Her words caught me by surprise. I studied her a moment, unsure of whether or not she was awake. There was no reason for her to ask me for her forgiveness, so I assumed it was all a dream.

"I never understood why Julia asked you over all these years," Meg murmured. "I thought she was like Christine."

I frowned at her in the darkness but said nothing. It had been weeks since I had considered Christine, and now that I was with Julia I found I was much happier no longer thinking of her. Even when I looked at Alex I no longer saw his mother. He was merely my son, not a link to the woman I had tried so desperately to find over the years. It brought me a sense of comfort knowing that I no longer enslaved myself to her memory, to the promise of something I would never have.

"But she's not like Christine, is she? She's nothing like Christine because she's good to you in a way Christine never was," Meg continued.

I nodded in the dark and looked away. It made me uncomfortable to discuss Christine.

"I thought it was you all those years," Meg whispered. "When she would cry and whisper tales in the night I thought you were a very wicked man. Mother was very angry with her for frightening the others. She told her to leave you alone, that it wasn't right of her to say such cruel things."

As much as I wanted to know what Christine had said I couldn't find my tongue. I merely sat and stared at the dwindling crowds, knowing it was for the best that I didn't question Meg. The last thing I wanted on my mind was Christine.

"After all these years of being afraid I know what Julia sees when she looks at you."

Such incessant rambling. She must have been more exhausted than I had thought. I said nothing and assumed she would fall asleep again if I remained silent. When she sighed I thought for certain Meg had finally returned to her dreams, and for that I was glad. By morning she would forget her monologue and our relationship of quiet understanding would resume. She would pass me in the halls and smile, make enough conversation to brush away uncomfortable silence, and perhaps we would live as we once did.

It saddened me to think the distance between us would increase. I had never much liked the vast nothingness, the emptiness inside my house that I felt but knew the others didn't sense.

"Rest yourself," I said at last.

A stubborn child, Little Meg. She seemed wide awake when I looked at her and I knew she would remember her words the next morning. Indeed, I would remember what she said for the rest of my life.

"She sees a good man," Meg said at last. She reached out and squeezed my hand before she sat closer to me again. "I'm glad someone finally found him."


	65. The Missing

_My café press store now has two more designs—an Odalisque training camp shirt and one that just says Highly Irritated. HDKingsbury was nice enough to design these, so please take a look._

_A big thanks to everyone for your continued support. My regular website is being updated, so please stop by, sign the guest book if you haven't and just say hello. My site is easy to remember. Gabrina dot com. See? I told ya!_

_E/N Meg has become a sister to me more so than ever. We are returning from the fair with Alex and Lisette. Hermine and Archie have not yet been found._

_I sincerely apologize for not keeping up with my author's notes as of late. I am a busy man, Mademoiselles! _

Ghost65

Both Ruby and Madeline skittered down the steps the moment our carriage arrived in front of the house. I had seen them while the cab slowly approached, their two faces peering through the curtains.

"Where is Julia?" I asked as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Where is Hermine?" Madeline questioned as she looked over my shoulder and saw Meg dozing in the carriage. "You didn't find them? They weren't together? What happened?"

"And Archie," Ruby added, her face appearing strained as she glanced down the street. "Did they take a separate cab?"

"Where is Julia?" I said again, ignoring them both. I glanced past them and saw Charles gazing through the parted curtain. I nodded, seeing the relief on his face instantly as he realized Meg was home safe. There was still longing in his eyes, as he didn't have the liberty of walking down the front stairs to meet his wife. With nothing left to do he let the curtain fall. Charles would wait his turn.

"Madeline?" I questioned gruffly.

"She's with her uncle," Madeline finally answered. "Did you see…him?"

I shook my head and turned away, deciding it was for the best to escort Meg, Alex, and Lisette inside. Meg was sitting up when I peered into the cab. She rubbed her eyes just before she saw her mother standing beside me.

"What happened?" Madeline demanded.

"Nothing happened," I muttered over my shoulder. "They're safe."

"But Archie and Hermine…"

I glanced at her briefly before I stepped into the carriage and scooped up Alex from where he slept. Once he was moved Lisette opened her eyes and looked around.

"Where is Mother?" Lisette questioned as she stretched.

"With her uncle," I said quietly, but my voice still woke Alex. I set him on his feet and he shuffled to Madeline and put his arms around her, his head resting on her chest a moment before he became more interested in the conversation than sleep.

Lisette stiffened immediately, her eyes bulging as she clutched my arm. "With Uncle Max?"

"No, her Uncle Luc."

She furrowed her brow, giving me the impression she had never heard of, much less met, Julia's uncle.

"Don't worry," Alex said. He patted his pocket. "I've got another rock, Lisette. I'll protect you."

Ruby checked him over, turning his face from one side to the other before she looked at his eyes and inside his mouth. Once she had finished she nodded in approval. "You've had enough excitement for one night, Alex. Come, you should eat something. You should all eat something."

"Take Lisette inside. Put her in Alexandre's room and have him stay in mine," I told Ruby. "And then you may leave for the evening. Madeline will make supper for my children."

Once they were inside I suspected they would both be ravenous. I, however, had no interest in food. I turned, paid the driver without looking at him, and looked at Ruby, who was still standing before me with her hands behind her back.

"I would rather stay, Monsieur," Ruby replied. "At least until Archie and Hermine have returned."

"Suit yourself."

With a nod I watched as Ruby took both children into the house. Meg smiled wanly at me before she trudged in behind them. I could hear Charles speaking with her before the front door closed.

"Did something happen?" Madeline whispered once everyone was inside.

"Why did Julia leave?" I asked, though I knew the answer to the question.

Madeline sighed heavily. "Why won't you tell me what happened to Monsieur Leach and his sister? Poor Ruby has been worried sick."

"Nothing happened to them. Archie entered one of the buildings to look for Max, and Hermine decided to stay and wait for him. She wanted to watch the fountain."

"The fountain?"

I raised a brow and nodded. The very idea of that woman deciding to stand in front of a fountain rather than return home was preposterous.

"Why would she do such a thing?" Madeline gasped.

I shook my head. If something happened to her it would be her own damned fault. I would not take responsibility for her decision.

"If Archie doesn't return…" Madeline placed her hand over her heart. "You don't think…?"

"I'm sure he's fine," I snapped. "He's a grown man, he can care for himself."

By the look on Madeline's face she didn't believe a word I had said. I wasn't so sure I had spoken convincingly either. He may have been irritating but he was a good person, one who had aided Julia. No matter what I said aloud I earnestly didn't want him to confront Max, as I feared Max would take advantage of the situation.

"My family is my priority," I told her sternly.

"You're not going to look for them?" Madeline asked.

"Shall I open all my doors and windows and ask Max to return?" I questioned.

"Erik, please," Madeline said under her breath. "We've been worried sick all evening. Charles, Ruby and I have been sitting in the parlor all night with the doors and windows locked."

"And what of Julia?"

"She left once you left. None of us has seen her since."

My heart was racing at her admission. "You haven't heard from her?" I asked as I quickly pulled my watch from my pocket. It was too dark for me to see what time it was, but I knew that it was past nine. Roughly two hours had passed since Julia left my home in search of her uncle. That was two hours of time in which I had no idea where she was.

The list of the missing was steadily growing.

I swore softly and ran my hand over my face. "What else are you keeping from me, Madeline?" I asked dryly.

"We're all worried," Madeline said.

With a heavy sigh I turned away from her. "You and Ruby need to arm yourselves with the sharpest knives from the kitchen," I instructed.

"God above," Madeline whispered. From the corner of my eye I saw her make the sign of the cross. "What are you asking of us, Erik?"

"To guard the house," I answered.

I turned and faced her again, gritting my teeth as sweat trickled into my eyes. She was staring at the right side of my face, most likely wondering how, after all these years, I could step from my front door without a mask, without the one thing in the world I could never live without.

"You want us…to kill him?"

"If it comes to it," I answered.

She was a good Catholic woman; one whom I was sometimes surprised had gone into dance and not the convent. My ways of obtaining what I wanted in the past were always frowned upon, and she constantly told me that she was going to pray for my soul. In those days I thought her effort was wasted, but she was a persistent woman who, even though she could do little, refused to turn her back on me.

From the first day I met Julia she continued to tell me both at night and in the morning that she kept me in her prayers. Though she possessed a temper, she was an honest, good woman.

When I met her eye I knew I was asking the impossible of her. Madeline would offer herself as the lamb for slaughter if Max walked into my home.

"Erik…I couldn't. I couldn't…I'll have the gendarmes come. They will stand watch."

"Do no such thing," I snapped.

She straightened. Though it had nearly been a decade since the affairs in the opera house I was always worried that I would be recognized. I was not the only man in the world to wear a mask, but I had been brazen—or foolish—enough to give my first name when I haunted the opera. If someone were to suspect that Erik Kire and the opera ghost were the same man my house and the life I had lived would be destroyed.

The gendarmes would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"The cellar," I said as I grabbed her by the shoulders. "While I am gone, if you should hear the slightest sound have Meg take the children to the cellar while you and Ruby help Charles."

I wanted to tell her about my half of the cellar, but it would be much more cumbersome to carry Charles up the stairs, wheel him through my room, and down to the half of the cellar I claimed as my own. If they were there for any amount of time the six of them would most certainly become claustrophobic.

"Stay there until I return," I told her.

"Return?" she questioned.

Ruby returned to the front door. "Dinner, Monsieur?"

"No," I replied. "Where does Monsieur Testan live? What street?"

"Rue de Montpellion. His residence sits between a bakery and a tailor," she said.

"Good." I gave a curt nod. "Good evening to you, Mademoiselle."

She curtsied and returned inside without another word. I liked Ruby and her complacent nature. Her willingness to do as she was told without question was a welcomed surprise.

I looked Madeline in the eye one last time before I released her. Her mouth dropped open in horror as I stepped away from her.

"Return inside at once," I told her.

Before she could question me further I set off down the street to find Julia; and the Leaches as well if they crossed my path.


	66. Testan

Ghost66

My walk to Monsieur Testan's residence was fueled by my unbridled hatred for that pig of a man. I was still quite appalled that he was Julia's uncle.

Once I reached Rue de Montpellion my pace slowed. I had not devised a plan as to how I would approach his home and ask to be allowed in. It would not be prudent to simply rap upon the door and request to see Monsieur Testan.

However, I was hardly a man of prudence.

I smirked at the thought of kicking down his door and whisking Julia away, though I had no idea of whether or not she had made it to his home. Regardless, I had no doubt he wouldn't willingly allow me to enter his abode. I was, as he had printed in the paper, little more than a cock scratching the ground and haphazardly creating sound. He went on to say that a yard full of pullets most likely had greater musical talent than I had ever possessed.

If he suspected I had forgotten his words he was gravely mistaken. I remembered every word he printed regarding my music.

As I stood before his home I wondered if Julia told him of me. She had clearly seen how foul my mood had turned once she revealed her uncle's identity. She knew our feelings for one another were mutual.

There was really no choice. I had to make my presence known and rap upon his door. With a deep breath I lowered my hood and balled my hand into a fist.

"Monsieur Testan does not receive visitors after nine," a woman said.

I peered past my hood and saw that the door had opened before I had knocked. There was nothing more unnerving than suddenly discovering you have been watched.

"Madame," I said, gauging her age by the sound of her voice, as she stood safely behind the door.

"Monsieur Testan does not receive visitors after nine," she said again.

"Your name, Madame," I said, feeling the last of my patience slipping away.

To my absolute irritation the door began to close. My left hand shot out to stop it before she could excuse me for the night. No one would send me away, not when my concern was for Julia.

"You will not shut this door on me, Madame," I said through my teeth. "I asked for your name and you will tell me this moment."

"Or. What?" she said through her teeth.

If I had rope in my pocket I would have been more than happy to show her why she should have been compliant. Judging by this woman's behavior I couldn't imagine how Ruby had ever been a part of this wait staff.

"I am looking for someone who may be here," I said. My God how I wanted to strangle this woman!

"Who are you? A street urchin?"

I glanced down at my clothing. How galling of her to insinuate such a thing! My evening wear most likely cost more than she made in a month and I was clearly no child.

"Listen to me, you irritating cow—"

"We don't offer scraps to tramps," the woman said. "Beg somewhere else."

I no longer cared if I knocked her to the floor. With a shove of my shoulder against the door I forced her backward and entered the foyer, my eyes struggling to adjust to the absolute darkness inside Testan's home.

I tensed instantly, berating myself for not arriving armed.

My first thought was that Luc Testan had created an alliance with Max, as I saw no reason for such interrogation at the front door.

With the front door still open at my back I forced myself to calm down. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I recognized the shape of a long, narrow table to my right. There was a vase of flowers and two candlesticks on either side, and above it was a painting or mirror. When I shifted I saw my dark reflection and knew it was a mirror.

From the corner of my eye I saw what I expected was the woman who had opened the front door standing at the bottom of the stairs to my left. I turned my head but didn't move. If I could barely see her I hoped she could not see me.

"You breathe like a horse," she commented. Something clicked. She had moved, I thought, but I hadn't heard her skirts rustle.

"Where is she?" I panted as I stepped back and grabbed a candlestick from a nearby table.

"She?"

"Julia Seuratti," I answered.

A long silence followed. The only thing I could hear was my own heavy breathing.

"I have never heard of her."

"Tell me the truth," I said, pointing the candlestick at her.

"What will you do? Beat me?" she asked dryly.

"Tempt me," I said, though there was little threat to my words.

As infuriating as this woman was, there was no honor or bravery in beating her. Though I had not lived the life of an honorable gentleman I had never sunken so low as to violate or harm a woman or injure a child. I would not start this night.

"What do you want with Madame Seuratti?" the woman asked.

My eyes had adjusted enough where I could make out her slender form from the surrounding darkness. It was too dark to make out her features, but I could see her white apron. She held her arms out and I assumed that she had also armed herself with a candlestick.

"To bring her home," I answered.

"Whose home?" the woman asked.

"My home. Where is she?"

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

The only person I cared about was Julia. This barrage of questions was completely unnecessary. My anger got the best of me, and in one blinding moment of rage my voice rose, my body rigid with abomination for being separated from Julia.

"I will not be questioned by a damned servant, do you understand? My time is quite valuable, Madame. When I ask you a question I expect an answer."

Another long pause threatened to steal my sanity. I was completely at her mercy, which I didn't care for at all. I wanted to scream at her, as she didn't realize what was at stake. Each second that passed was another opportunity for Max to drag her away to Italy.

"I will not ask again. Tell me where she is at once or I will search every inch of this house."

"You will do no such thing, Monsieur. Tell me your name."

"Kire."

She paused again, mulling it over. My legs tensed as I prepared to walk past her. Already I could see the stairs behind her and the long hall before me.

"Julie is safe," the woman answered.

"I must see her at once," I demanded.

"First, you will see Monsieur Testan," she replied.

I saw her silhouette move to the right as a light appeared behind her. She turned up the kerosene lamp that had been at her back. Then I watched her drop the pistol she had held to her side and gently release the hammer.

My heart felt as though it had dropped into my gut. The entire time this woman, who looked too petite to heft the weapon, had stood with a pistol aimed at my chest. I wondered why she hadn't put a bullet through my heart when I shoved her aside.

"This way, Monsieur," she instructed as she nodded toward the stairs. Her tone matched her expression: stern and fearless.

My eyes left the unnamed woman briefly as I studied the darkened stairway. At the very top was a door, intricately carved and appearing wider than normal. It looked like something from a church, as its frame was baroque in style and adorned with interlaced putti.

I heard a noise at the top of the stair, like a chair scraping across the floor.

"Muriel," a deep but weak voice called.

I squinted but could see no one there. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. Who in the hell was this man?

"Yes, Luc?" she said as she walked up the first three stairs.

"Send him up. I haven't all night to accommodate rude guests."

My gaze switched from the top of the stair to Muriel, who had removed her apron. She stared at me as she held the fabric to her chest and turned her head to the side.

She appeared to be near Madeline's age, with a high forehead and narrow face. Arched brows and thin lips made her appear gaunt, though despite her small stature there was something undeniably familiar about this woman.

"Remove your hood, Monsieur," she said.

When she spoke again even her voice sounded familiar. I hesitated, my arms remaining at my side, my feet still shoulder's width apart. This woman was no servant. I glanced at her right hand and saw that she wore no wedding band, which made me all the more curious.

She was not Testan's wife. She had Julia's eyes and hair color. My assumption was that she was Testan's sister.

"Madame Testan?" I questioned.

Her chin raised, eyes narrowing at my words. Perhaps she assumed that I insulted her by questioning her marital status.

"I asked you to remove your hood."

"Your brother seems impatient," I replied as I folded my hands before me. "I wish to see him immediately."

"No one sees my brother," she snapped.

I was tempted to tell her that the same could be said for me but I had little desire to continue arguing with this woman.

"Then allow me to see Julia and I will return her to her home and not trouble you a moment longer," I offered.

"She's safe," Muriel said again. "Show yourself or leave my home. There is no other choice."

Even unarmed it was possible that I could have overpowered her before she was able to fire, but it was late enough at night where any disturbance would have alerted neighbors and possibly the gendarmes. As much as it was strangling the life from me, I would have to comply or see myself to the door.

I reminded myself that her request came from precaution rather than malice. For all she knew I was Max, or someone Julia's brother had sent to retrieve her. If Julia was in the house—and I was certain she had come to her uncle—then she would have told her aunt and uncle of my appearance.

There would be time for anger later. For the moment I was too concerned for her safety to worry about myself. With a nod I took a deep breath and braced myself to the look of horror that would cross her face.

I looked away from her when my hood fell at the nape of my neck. I heard her inhale sharply, but she did nothing more. Part of me had expected her to raise the gun again and shoot me between the eyes, but she didn't move. Perhaps fear paralyzed her.

"Julie said you were injured long ago," Muriel said. "I apologize for staring, Monsieur."

I glared at her but said nothing. Frankly, I had nothing to say to her. I had insulted her, now she humiliated me.

Without a sound I tugged the hood of my cloak over my face. With an exaggerated bow I walked up the stairs alone and knocked upon the bedroom door.

"The other door," the same weak but deep voice snarled. "Walk through the other door, you fool."


	67. Testan's Sanctuary

E/N

Gabrina insists that I mention the musical _Wicked_ played a great part in deciding the course of this chapter. The song in particular was _What is this Feeling?_ Fear not if you haven't seen it or have no idea what she's talking about--after all so few of us do.

I am also obligated to thank you once again for your feedback. It is unfortunate that my story is winding down. However, Gabrina will be forced to listen to my "ramblings" if she does not allow me my own forum. In short, Mademoiselles, I look forward to bringing you two more stories in the future. E. Kire

Ghost67

The entrance Testan sent me to had a doorknob shaped like a gargoyle. The door, just as gaudy as the one I had seen from the bottom of the stairs, was carved with devils and demons, each consumed by flames, their tongues lolling and their spaded-tails erect.

What in the hell sort of place was this, I wondered. My hand wrapped around the cool brass and I entered, surprised by how heavy the door was. It was made so that sound could not penetrate. Strange, yet fascinating.

The hinges creaked as I closed the door behind me and smelled frankincense and myrrh thick in the air. The overwhelming smell made me cough into the crook of my elbow, and the smoke from candles crowded on a tabletop made my eyes water.

The candles provided a soft, golden glow in the small room, revealing at least two dozen crucifixes of different size and design. There were paintings of the Virgin Mary and several saints, most of whom I didn't recognize.

Though I had never seen one with my own eyes I suspected the room was modeled after a confessional. There was an alcove to my right complete with a small bench. A curtain closed off the space from the rest of the room, but it was currently tied back.

This pompous ass had built his own sanctuary. I smiled wryly at the eccentric old fool's garish home thinking I had entered the Church of Testan.

Despite the beauty of the paintings and the warm cast of candlelight the room was somewhat eerie. I attempted in vain to keep the thought of such religious objects as being unnerving, as I was certain I would be struck by lightning for having such a thought, but I had never seen such a collection in all my life, especially in such a confined space.

Madeline came to mind. There had never been a reason for me to enter her bedchamber, but I could not imagine even Madeline possessing so many crucifixes. The only thing I knew for certain was that she kept a small painting of St. Monica. I had seen it when she had her apartment in the opera house. It was how I had learned of her life before she came to the Opera Populaire. The patron saint that watched over Madeline had sent me back to my own apartments weeping.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt someone watching me. I stood very still and held my breath, listening for some indication that I was not alone.

"You waste my precious time, Kire," Testan rasped.

The screened window beside the bench slid fully open, and even in darkness I could see his form through the long, narrow window.

"Where is Julia?"

He sighed in disgust at my questioning. "Safe, she is safe. Safe, Kire! Haven't you heard what Muriel said? My niece is safe."

"I don't give a damn what you say," I replied through my teeth, my eyes flitting through the room at the statues and relics staring at me for the intrusion of their sanctuary.

"Where is she?" I asked again.

"She's not here," he answered.

I turned on my heel, preparing to storm from the room and resume my search on the streets.

"You'll never find her," Testan continued. "Unless I allow it."

The man was absolutely mad. He had made himself into a self-proclaimed deity.

"And you will allow it?" I asked almost indignantly as I took a step forward, my hands on my hips.

There was a long silence.

He was merely wasting _my_ time. I grit my teeth and turned again.

"God has punished me, Kire," he said suddenly.

I froze, staring from the corner of my eye at the window that separated us.

"There is no other explanation for it, is there?"

"For what?" I snapped.

"For you coming to my home in search of my niece! It is punishment! Punishment that I should ever have to meet you!"

"Likewise," I seethed.

He was silent again.

And then I thought he started to choke. He released a sound that was part wheezing, part hissing. As much as I wanted to leave the room I suspected I would plummet straight to hell if I abandoned him while he choked to death.

But he wasn't choking. He was laughing in a terrible raspy way that made my face contort in repulsion. His voice was stronger than before, deeper than any I had heard in my life. The acoustics of the room made his voice surround me and encompass me with his damned cynical joy.

"Sit," he said at last when his mirth had come to an end.

My eyes scanned the room and saw no seating other than the bench. The confessional bench.

"That's right," Testan rasped. "I said sit."

His words infuriated me. He criticized my music and now he commanded me like a child or servant. I would not allow this.

"Good night, Monsieur Testan," I said curtly as I turned away.

"We haven't had a proper conversation yet, Monsieur Kire," he said.

"My reason for entering your home was to find Julia, not discuss whatever petty topic you wish to entertain."

He released a heavy sigh. "Julie will be very disappointed, I'm afraid. However, I could not be more delighted."

His words made me freeze where I stood.

"I told Julie this would never work," he continued casually. "You and I will never see eye to eye."

I snorted in response. At least he knew something, the dolt.

The chair where he sat hidden in the adjacent room creaked.

"Why is that, do you think?" he asked. "We're both men of artistic means. Or at least one of us was at one time."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know damn well what that means," he said smoothly.

His calm demeanor made me highly irritated. He was implying that I was no longer an artist and there was nothing I could think of that could have insulted me more than his words. It was not enough for him to publicly humiliate my work. He felt the need to tell me in private what he thought of my music, of the one thing I had dedicated my life to mastering.

I walked toward the bench and stood glaring at the screened window, squinting in a vain attempt to see his face. He was a coward for hiding himself from me.

"We will never see eye to eye because you are a tone-deaf mouse of a man with more opinions than the world will ever care to hear!" I said, shaking my fist at the screen.

"Better my opinions than that racket you consider music!"

"Indeed," I said dryly.

"Indeed," he mocked.

He was fortunate that there was a screen between us or I would have reached through and strangled him with my bare hands.

We remained silent a moment, both of us stewing with hatred for the other. Our conversation was moot and I saw no reason to continue. The stuffy air was giving me a headache, compounded by the aggravating man in the other room.

"What in the hell do you want?" I asked through my teeth.

He was silent a moment. I could see him shifting again, his face nearing the screen. Still, I couldn't make out his features but his face looked rather round and fleshy. Just like a pig, I thought. A boorish man with swine features.

"I want to know your intentions for Julie," he said simply.

"Intentions?" I questioned. "I intend to marry her."

To my surprise he didn't scoff or snort or make any snide comment. He cleared his throat and inhaled, mulling over my brazen words.

His quiet consideration made me uncomfortable. I found myself leaning toward the window and waiting for his answer, for some comment to voice his opinion on the matter.

"Max wants her in Italy where he can keep an eye on her," Testan said at last. "I would say that is honorable, wouldn't you?"

"I would say it's controlling."

"He's Julie's brother. It is his duty to keep her safe."

"Safe?" I said, nearly shouting as my anger rose. "She'll be as safe there as she was when she was married."

Luc hesitated yet again. A thousand words filled my head and I knew I was prepared to give him quite an earful on my opinions of Louis Seuratti.

"You will offer her a better life under your roof and your law?"

I wasn't certain if his words were a challenge or not.

"We will live under our roof," I answered. "And if Julia Seuratti truly is your niece then you know damned well I'll be living under her law."

He laughed and tapped the screen. "Sit," he said. "It's rude for guests to stand, Kire. I'm liable to think you want to leave."

"You would be correct," I answered.

"Then you will never see Julie again. Now damn it, sit down."

"How do I know she's still in Paris?"

"Because I will give you my word that she is, you untrusting, bull-headed fool."

"What does your word mean to me, Testan?"

"In time a great deal, I dare say."

"Because you deem it so?"

"Indeed," he said, and his tone of voice assured me that he was mocking me again.

He was sure of himself, I thought, for a damned recluse holed up in his private sanctuary. Reluctantly I sat and watched as the screen drew back and Luc Testan finally appeared.

"We'll see if Julie was correct about you," he said.

I knew by his words that it meant proving him wrong.


	68. A Matter of Business

Ghost68

"You have proposed?" Testan asked as his fat hand was extended.

It was still dark, but I could tell he was a man of unhealthy size. His face was round and sickly, his eyes set far apart with fleshy bags beneath them. His hair was thin and combed back, making his wide nose and thick brows more prominent.

"You have proposed to Julie Seuratti?" he asked. He squinted as he stared at me, though he made no comment about my appearance. He didn't have to remark, as I knew quite plainly by his visage what he thought of me. He was critical, but it remained on a professional level, not personal.

I wasn't sure if I was insulted by that or not.

"You, Erik Kire, have proposed to my niece?" he sneered.

"I have."

He grunted and we shook briefly, both of us making a fine attempt to break the other man's hand.

"And what does Max say of this union?"

"Max can go to hell for all I care."

He chuckled again. "As my nephew and the blood of my blood I should support him in all causes. He is a strong-willed man, one who does not lose."

"Not yet, perhaps," I mumbled. "But he will."

Testan grunted again. "Confident, are you, Kire?"

I didn't reply. I couldn't resist the urge to look behind me, fearing there was someone waiting to gut me. Testan was not yet a man I could trust. For all I knew he had Max lying in wait for my exit.

The old fool read my mind.

"Afraid I might be leading you into the killing shed, are you?" he asked with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

I turned toward him again. "The only thing I need from you is to know where Julia is."

"She is safe, as I have already explained."

"I want to know where she is," I said through my teeth. "I have her daughter in my house, and you are currently the least of my concerns. If her brother walks into my home and steals Lisette there is not a damned thing you or your insistence for rhetoric will do to retrieve her."

I paused, searching his round, porcine face. He didn't even blink when I scrutinized him.

"Unless you have ordered Max to send her here," I finished as I rose.

"Max Falchetti is not a man I would readily accept into my home," Testan said before I had stepped away. He reached for his neck and I saw the glint of a crucifix against his dark garb. "He has done great things for himself, but nothing for his family. His sisters do not speak to one another, his aunts and uncles never cross paths. He tells everyone where they should be and there is no questioning him. The Falchettis and Testans are divided because of him, Kire. And there is not a damned thing you can do about it."

I nodded once. Family feuds meant nothing to me. I wanted a family of my own.

"Where is he?"

His smile widened. "He's of no immediate concern."

My lips parted as I tired of his riddles. He treated me like a beast in his service, one kept on a very short leash.

"Julie has great faith in you, more than I would grant you," he continued.

"If you intend to insult me—"

"Oh, sit down and listen for once," he snarled.

His words made him cough again, and for a while there were no words between us. He sounded as though he were suffocating, his body heaving as he regained his composure.

"Julie has always been a very trusting girl. When she was younger she questioned no one. She did as she was told regardless of how she felt. Now that she is living alone I fear for her. Women should never be left alone to care for themselves, Kire. They become feral."

"That sounds like the words of her brother," I commented, feeling the urgent need to arm myself.

"I suppose it does. How do you feel about her living alone all these years? She has forgotten her place. It was obvious when she paid me a visit earlier this evening."

"She's not alone," I blurted out.

He made another sound as he tapped his chin. "Perhaps not completely. But we both know that before Julie there was another," he said.

His words enraged me. I would not tolerate him talking about Christine Daae.

"Music," he said before I could find my voice. "Before Julia Seuratti you loved music. Once you found my niece your compositions went to hell. Why do you think that is?"

My face straightened. "I love her," I answered.

He shook his finger at me through the narrow window. "More than her brother?"

"More than anyone else," I said. I glared at him, prepared to fight to the death to prove how much I truly cared for her. I had left my house in daylight to search for our children, I had roamed the streets of Paris to come to her uncle to find her. I had forgotten myself completely out of love for her and no one—no one! Would take her away from me.

By the look on his face and the way he nodded I knew I had muttered my thoughts aloud.

"Ghosts are rarely seen, and when they are, there is a stir," he mused to himself.

"I'm not—"

"The hell you aren't. What do you take me for? A damned fool, Kire? I've been in the business—or dare I say inane chaos—of theater long enough to know exactly who you are. But you needn't worry, Kire. Your past is your own concern, not mine," he said.

The hairs at the back of my neck prickled, and despite the warmth of the room I shivered at his statement. Only one word in my vocabulary came croaking out. "Why?"

"Because I am a man of much more sense and practicality than you would wager. I am a business man, Kire. I make my living finding, keeping, and ending the proper arrangements and deals. I know the people who sell the right equipment from the ink I use in my quills to the violins in my orchestra pit. Some of my most trusted business partners are like family to me, Kire. At the moment I find you useful. You have no idea how much it galls me to turn to you for help."

"Excuse me?"

"You will have what you want, make no mistake," he said smoothly. He paused and leaned toward the window. "Do you know what the most dangerous animal is?"

"I've no time for riddles."

"A wounded animal," he said. "Look at me, Kire. I am a wounded beast limping through darkness, shunned by my family. Look at my hands," he said as he pushed both of his forearms through the window. "Bruises everywhere. From fits, Kire. Have you ever seen anyone have a fit?"

"No, I have not," I answered. My knowledge of epilepsy was limited to what I had read.

"I own one of the largest opera houses in Germany and employ more actors, dancers, and idiots than the Garnier. I do not merely have my finger on the pulse of the theater—I _am_ the blood in its veins. I am a mastermind, do you understand me? I am the master!"

He hit the wall with his fist and began coughing again until he was forced to retrieve his handkerchief. In the darkness I saw the stark white cloth suddenly marred with dark spots.

He was an ill man indeed.

"I own a successful business, I have money—good money—invested in people like Puccini and Wagner. I know where music has been and where it is headed yet I cannot leave my home because I don't know what will happen to me from one moment to the next. You know as well as I do what a terrible thing it is to fear the world outside your door, don't you, Kire?"

He was attempting to find common ground between us. We had nothing in common and we never would. Save, perhaps, our affection for Julia. I still wasn't sure what to make of Testan other than he was a bitter and distorted old man.

"What do you want with me?" I asked.

Testan chuckled to himself. "I want you to marry my niece."

His words caught me off guard. "You know who I am and what I am capable of, yet you want me to marry Julia? Why?"

"You shall marry Julia because I say so, not because it is your desire, do you understand? This is my family and my governing of my precious niece, whom I—not you—think should be wed again."

"You want our wedding to spite Max Falchetti?"

He held his hand up as he bent to the side, ignoring my question. "I even have a wedding gift for you. Do you see this?"

He showed me a violin case. "It's a fiddle. Imported. Made of the finest material, Kire. You won't find another like it."

I nodded slowly.

"You put a ring on her finger and this will be yours."

"This arrangement is you asserting your authority over Max?" I asked as I tried a different approach. My eyes narrowed on his sallow face.

"Max," he said, his voice weaker than before. "Will no longer be a concern. As I said, Kire, I am a man of business. I know the right people, the right deals to be made at the right prices. This," he said, coughing again, "is a good deal. I suggest you consent."

He was mad. There was no other explanation for his cryptic words other than he was completely mad. I nodded, suddenly realizing that the last thing I wanted to do was alarm him.

"You want something more. Tell me."

He smiled grimly. "You are a ruthless man."

"You want…revenge?" I questioned. "You think I will kill him?"

He paused a moment. I started to shake my head, disgusted by his insinuation. For too many years my hands were stained with blood. I would not continue the life I had lived.

"I want my place back in the family. I am sick to death of being the forgotten old man left alone in his home with his ill wife and his unmarried sister. This is my family. My family! It will stay my family! To hell with Max! He is nothing but a selfish whelp!" he shouted, sending himself into a fit of coughs again.

We could have argued all night, but I wanted to leave his home immediately. There was nothing I needed from him, least of all his permission to marry Julia. But as he said, he was a wounded animal and I could not risk upsetting him.

"Then, by your blessing, Monsieur Testan, I may see Julia again?" I asked calmly. "I would like to see my fiancée, and I am certain her daughter is concerned as well."

He grunted again and tucked his handkerchief into his pocket. "I dare say you may. She's in the flat above the tailor's. It's Muriel's home. Take her straight home and send her to bed. She's had enough excitement for one day. Anything more will send her into hysteria."

I rose and swallowed hard, knowing this man was aware of much more than he was telling.

"Perhaps she should stay the night in my home," I said. "She could stay with Madame Giry, or she could take my room and I will stay with my son."

"That would not be an appropriate arrangement, Kire, and I know you are a God-fearing man."

"Of course," I replied, my calm waning. "But with her brother prowling about I think it would be wise to have Julia and Lisette in my keeping. Already there are two of Julia's friends missing."

"There is no one missing. It is simply a matter of business. Good evening, Monsieur Kire."

Testan sat back and shut the window once more and I was on my feet, flying down the stairs and into the empty foyer. I raced out the front door, my eyes flitting back and forth until I found the tailor's shop. The windows above were dark.

"Julia!" I called as I rattled the locked door leading to the flat. "Julia!"

I stepped back from the door and searched the window again. Nothing. He had kept me in his house longer than was necessary and now she was gone. I slammed my fist into the door and cursed my foolishness.

Again I called her name and stepped back once more in preparation for kicking down the door. The only thing that stopped me was the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

"Erik?" she said, her voice muffled.

"Julia?" My hands trembled as I reached for the doorknob.

"Uncle Luc insisted that he speak with you alone. I begged him to let me stay when you came, but he—"

The door opened, and before she could continue I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the street.

"Lisette is at my house," I told her as I led her down the street. "She and Alex are home."

Julia tugged on my arm and forced me to slow our pace. "You didn't find Hermine? I thought you and Archie—"

"They're gone. Archie disappeared at the fair and Hermine decided to stay by the fountain."

"What do you mean he disappeared?"

"We were both looking for Hermine and our children. He walked into one of the buildings and disappeared."

I could still see him standing at the top of the stairs. He had checked his pocket before entering the building. That was the last I had seen of him.

"Why would Hermine choose to stay? I don't understand."

"She's worried about her brother."

And after everything Luc Testan had said I was worried about Archie as well.

I turned to Julia. "Does Archie do business with your uncle?"

She shrugged. "I suppose the Leaches might do business with him. Archie has mentioned before that he sold my uncle paper, I think."

"Good business partners, then?"

"I'm not sure. As you've heard Archie say they market many goods throughout Europe. Erik, I don't understand. What does this have to do with Archie and Hermine missing?"

"Nothing, I hope," I answered. I glanced at her as we rounded the corner. "If Archie and Hermine are not at my home or their own, you return to my home and you wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For me to return."

She stopped immediately. "Erik, what happened?"

"Let's hope nothing yet."


	69. Bloodstained Hands

Following a meeting with her uncle, Julia and I are on our way home together. I'm not sure what to make of Monsieur Testan.

Ghost69

Julia asked a thousand questions on our walk home, most of which were left unanswered. I muttered twice that I knew as much as she did, but that did nothing to quell her fears. She clung to my arm, barely able to match my brisk pace.

"What did he say to you?" Julia panted.

"Who?"

"My uncle."

"Nothing of interest," I said under my breath.

She began dragging her feet, which aggravated me. There was no time to waste and I told her so as I pulled her along, doing my best not to injure her.

"Erik, I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For insisting that I see my Uncle Luc. He's changed over the years. I haven't seen him in many years, so I didn't realize he had become so ill."

"He has tuberculosis," I said under my breath.

"I know. That's why he doesn't leave his room. He's prone to fits, and now with this—"

"He's very ill, Julia, more so than you realize."

She started to stall again. "What do you mean, Erik? Did something happen? He didn't have another fit, did he?"

"No," I replied, though I think I would have preferred witnessing an epileptic seizure to his unnerving madness. Fits were a less dangerous threat than what I assumed his cryptic words implied.

"Why won't you tell me what happened?" she asked.

"Because nothing happened, Julia," I muttered.

Two hours had passed since I had last seen Archie Leach, and now that I had Julia by my side once more he was the only person on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Archie had given Luc Testan his new fiddle. I wished I had seen the instrument out of its case so I would know if it was the same one Archie had played in my home.

"You're worried," Julia commented.

"I'm agitated and I want to return home," I said firmly in hopes that she would not say another word.

"Was he rude to you? He never leaves his home, but even so he's always been highly opinionated. If he said something to you then I apologize on his behalf."

I glanced at her but said nothing.

"He gave me his blessing," she said, attempting to make conversation.

"Julia, walk or I shall leave you behind," I snapped.

She wriggled away from me. "Tell me what has happened. Please, Erik, I apologize for seeing my uncle. I thought he would help us, I thought—"

"Your uncle doesn't appreciate that Max took his place in the family. You are aware of this, are you not?"

Her expression changed from apologetic to bewildered. She nodded slowly and continued to walk beside me.

"How far do you expect your uncle would go to reclaim his place?"

"He won't do anything."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"So you consider him nothing more than an old windbag?"

"He wouldn't confront Max because he won't leave his home."

"He doesn't need to leave his home to reclaim his place," I said under my breath. "All he needs is the proper business arrangement."

"You're frightening me. What do you mean? What did he say?"

My visit with Luc Testan left me feeling highly disturbed. I looked at Julia again and sighed, attempting to ignore the concern in her eyes. I wasn't sure what I should tell her, as I didn't want her to worry herself. Silence, I knew, was no better, but still I didn't want to share my thoughts. I wasn't sure if she would believe me.

Archie's disappearance was beginning to concern me greatly, as I knew of his respect and adoration for Julia, as well as his hatred for Max. I couldn't blame him for being embittered. An otherwise healthy and virile man who had been left maimed, and I had no doubt that Archie would be tempted to seek revenge.

"Erik, please tell me," Julia begged.

"There is nothing to tell," I insisted.

"If you intended to kill my brother you would tell me, wouldn't you?" she blurted out, her fingers digging into my arm. "Promise me you won't kill him, Erik, promise me you won't harm him or anyone else. Please, I have faith in you, I have trust in you, and you don't need to do this…this terrible, terrible thing. I know who you are. You are a good person deep inside. You needn't kill him."

I stopped, seeing the desperation in her eyes.

"Your brother may be in danger, but it is not at my hands."

She wanted to believe me, I knew. I could see it in her strained expression, but as much as she wanted to put her faith in me, she was familiar with my past transgressions.

"What sort of danger?" she asked.

It sounded like madness, but I nodded and agreed to tell her. "I think your uncle may have made a business arrangement of sorts with Archie."

"Business?" she whispered.

"Is Archie a vengeful man?" I asked.

"No, he's very docile. He wouldn't harm anyone."

"Including a man he hates? A man he might blame for his injury? A man he is worried may hurt you as well?"

She hesitated but still shook her head. "No, he wouldn't harm anyone. I know it."

"Not even to protect you?"

"Nothing is for certain, but I don't think he is capable." Julia stared at her joined hands before she looked to me again, her brow furrowed. "But you think my uncle has asked Archie to hurt my brother?"

I nodded. "Archie, I think, gave him his fiddle."

"He wouldn't—"

"I saw it. Your uncle showed me the case and offered it to me when I saw him. He wants me to marry you, Julia, but only because he said he would allow it. He's spiting your brother."

"I know he doesn't care what Max says…"

"Julia, he said Max is of no concern. That does not bode well."

Julia's mouth dropped open. "There must be some mistake."

I grabbed her by the wrist and led her around the corner of my street. The moment we turned I saw a woman running toward us. She screamed when she spotted us and I froze, holding my arm out so that Julia could not pass me.

"Hermine," Julia whispered as she clutched my arm. "Oh, God, Erik, you might be correct."

"Stay here," I ordered. The moment I spoke I knew my words were wasted, but still I attempted to persuade her. "I said stay here. I don't want you becoming trapped in the middle of this, if something were to happen—"

"Nothing will happen," she said as she continued to follow me.

Hermine was running toward us, her arms flailing as she screamed. By her actions I feared we had returned home too late.

I grabbed Julia by the arms and put my face to hers. "If I am to be your husband—and I _will_ be your husband—I will protect you. It will begin this night, do you hear me?"

She wasn't pleased but she nodded. "I will stay behind you," she stated.

It wasn't quite what I wanted but I knew she would not stand on the corner like a child and wait for me to return for her. There was no time to issue further orders. Hermine ran between us and clutched Julia's wrists.

"Help me," she gasped as she looked from Julia to me. Her hair was a mess of curls plastered to her head with perspiration.

Julia pulled away and drew Hermine's hands up to her face to examine them. She glanced at me before she spoke.

"Meanie, where did this blood come from?"

Hermine gasped when she saw the bloodstains on her hands. She stumbled backward, trembling as she spread her fingers.

"I don't know. Help him. Please help him. I can't lose my brother," she whimpered.

I grabbed Hermine by the arm and dragged her several feet from Julia. "Tell me what happened this moment. Where are they?"

She pointed a trembling finger toward her home. "I don't know what happened. I waited for Archie but he never appeared at the fair, so I walked home alone. When I walked toward my home I heard shouting."

"Coming from where?" I asked.

"Inside."

"Inside where?"

"My home. They're both in there still." She paused and listened a moment. I couldn't hear a damned thing.

"What were they doing?" Julia asked.

Hermine pursed her lips. "I think they cut each other," she managed.

I handed her my handkerchief and she covered her mouth and nose as she began to cry. Julia clung to her, attempting to provide comfort. It was a strange sight, as both of these women held one another while their brothers' lives were at stake.

"What did they cut each other with?" I asked. I couldn't imagine how, with his bad leg, he had managed to cut Max. Hermine must have been mistaken, and I feared that the blood staining her hands belonged to her brother. For Archie's sake I hoped he was armed with a pistol, as Max was a man who kept himself well armed. A man with so many knives would not be caught off-guard easily by a man missing a leg.

I reached the front gate first and turned to face Hermine, who couldn't speak through her tears. She was beginning to hyperventilate and I had little time to waste on emotion. She frustrated me, as there was not a moment to spare. I wanted to know what I would discover once I walked into her home but she was not in a state to reveal anything.

I started to tell them both to leave at once, but my words were cut off by shouting from within the Leach house. It was Archie's voice. If he was injured at least he was still alive and able to shout.

Hermine lunged forward, struggling to get away from Julia, who was holding fast to her friend's waist.

"Stay here," I said sharply, switching my gaze from Hermine to Julia. Hermine froze at once, her lips trembling. She nodded before burying her face against Julia's shoulder.

Almost immediately Julia began to protest. "It's not safe, Erik. We'll call the gendarmes and have them take care of this. You shouldn't go in there alone."

I shook my head at her. "Both of you will return to my house at once. If it isn't safe in there it most certainly isn't safe out here," I said before I pulled the gate open. "Go, before something happens, go and do not leave my house. Do not call anyone unless Max is beating down the door."

"Erik, listen to me."

"There is no time to argue!" I grabbed Julia by the wrist and pulled her forward, searching her eyes. She had the same look of concern I had seen when I stayed with her before. She was terrified.

"Don't do this," she begged. "I can't lose you. I don't want you to go alone."

I kissed her before I pushed her toward Hermine. "There's no other choice. Go home."

I didn't bother to glance back. My only hope was that they would do as I said and bar the door until either Archie or I returned for them.

No matter what happened I would make certain that Max stayed away from Julia.


	70. Vengeance

As always I would love to know what you think, especially all of you lurkers. Te he.

Erik's notes: Once Julia and I returned to my street we found Hermine Leach screaming that her brother needed help. After telling them to return home I am searching for Archie and hoping he is still alive.

Ghost70

The shouting had ceased by the time I reached the front door, which concerned me. With voices I could locate them within the house, and if either man was armed I didn't want them to see me coming. If Max saw me it would be dangerous to both Archie and me, and if I distracted Archie it could be fatal for one or both of us.

My skills for haunting the opera house were quickly returning. All I needed to do was brush away the cobwebs in my mind and relish my secret place in the night.

Forgoing the front door, I walked to the side of the house and decided my best plan of action was to peer through the windows until I found one or both of them.

All the while I kept thinking only one thing: How in the hell had Archie managed to keep Max in his home? Hermine had provided no information, as she was not in a state where she was capable of elaborating.

Regardless, it didn't bode well for Archie, as due to his injury I couldn't imagine him overpowering Max. My greatest fear was that Max was holding Archie captive. From the shouting I had heard, and now the silence, I wondered if Max was torturing Monsieur Leach. There was little I would put past him.

Once I reached the back of the house and darkness had descended I considered entering the building. Time was of the essence, and each moment that passed was another lost chance of finding Archie alive.

I tried the back door, but it was locked. Breaking the lock or the entire door would draw attention to my presence. Silently cursing my situation, I walked around the side of the house and quickly checked the windows.

A sound came from the parlor, which stopped me in my tracks. I held my breath to listen but it had stopped. As best as I could I walked forth, watching my steps so that my feet treaded only on the soft grass.

I was mere feet from the window when I heard the sound again. It was a groan, muffled by the closed window.

The parlor, I assumed, they were in the parlor, but because the curtains were drawn I couldn't see inside.

With a soft sigh of aggravation I rounded the house and saw that Julia and Hermine had obeyed me and returned home. My fears for their safety were momentarily quelled as I walked up the front steps and tried the door.

At last I found a scrap of fortune and walked in unnoticed, finding the house unlocked and disheveled. There was a lamp overturned and a flower vase that appeared to have been thrown against the wall. Stains on the floor led toward the parlor. Bloodstains smeared across the wooden floor and rug, which was balled up outside the parlor door.

Movement within the parlor drew my attention to the door, which was cracked open. I glanced around in search of something I could use as a weapon and found an umbrella and a cane near the door. The umbrella was cracked in half, but the cane appeared in good condition I couldn't risk retrieving a knife from the kitchen, so I took the cane.

It was heavier than I expected, which instantly made me suspicious. I turned it over and looked at the end, which appeared normal. Brow furrowed, I ran my hand up the length and found a small ring at the top, near the hammer head handle. I turned the cane toward me and unscrewed the head from the length.

A rapier lay hidden inside, which was as I expected judging from the weight. In the past they had become quite popular weapons, often used by imprudent youths desiring a duel. Whatever had happened, I suspected Archie had the opportunity to defend himself.

Before I had the opportunity to examine the concealed blade I heard the parlor door creak open.

Archie and I both startled one another, each of us startled by the other's presence. He started to close the door again but stopped himself when I stepped forward.

"Monsieur Leach," I said as I glanced from the rapier to him.

"Monsieur Kire, I apologize. I never found you again at the fair, but I do see you returned home safely."

"Yes, I found your sister with Lisette and Alexandre with Madame Lowry."

"Meanie told me. I appreciate your concern for my sister," he replied as he limped into the hall. His face looked unusually pale and his shirt was torn in several places.

"You look as though you've been in a fight."

When he noticed me staring at his leg he pointed toward the front door.

"You should leave," he said before he wiped his left hand on his pant leg and placed his right hand behind his back. "If Julie dear is safe then that's all that matters, isn't that so, Monsieur?"

"Your sister thought you were injured," I said as I lowered the rapier. When our eyes met I signaled that I had no intention of abandoning my only weapon. There was something strange in his gaze, something strange and dangerous.

"A mere cut. I'll be fine," he said, his gaze flitting around the room.

"It was deep enough to draw blood."

"No, Monsieur Kire."

"Your sister has blood on her hands."

He grit his teeth and nodded once. "Perhaps she does. I am quite occupied this evening, Monsieur. I would very much enjoy your company, but at another time."

"You could play your fiddle again," I said. "If it is still in your possession."

His expression changed, his eyes widening in surprise. He attempted to hide his alarm by switching his gaze to the floor, though his reaction was all the proof I needed.

"But of course," he said, forcing a grim smile. "At another time it would be a great honor to play with such a talented composer and musician."

He glanced at the door behind him before his gaze trained on me once more. He said nothing, though I knew by his anxious expression that I was quickly outwearing my welcome.

"Is he still here?" I asked. "In that room?"

"I said you should leave," he said, no longer visible was a hint of the man I had first seen in my home.

Another groan escaped through the parlor door and my breath hitched in my throat. Max was still here. I was apparently concerned about the wrong man.

I gripped the cane tighter and took a step forward. "Shall I send your sister home?" I asked.

His breathing had increased and I could see him gnashing his teeth together in anger. His body started to tremble, just enough to be noticed. I wasn't certain if he was angry or frightened, though I suspected it was both.

"This does not concern you, Monsieur Kire. If anything, you should consider this as a favor between friends."

"And a business agreement with Monsieur Testan?"

I thought his anger would flare, but his expression changed briefly from umbrage to remorse.

"You of all people should thank me when this is done."

I shook my head. "I made a promise to Julia. My own desires are of no concern."

"What oaths you make don't concern me, Monsieur. Promise what you like. I'll gladly kill him on your behalf. The moment he takes his last breath will be the happiest of my life," he said, gasping for each breath.

From what I had seen of him, Archie Leach did not possess the heart or mind of a killer. If he had wanted Max dead he wouldn't have procrastinated or left him in the parlor. He was searching for the strength he needed to issue Max Falchetti's death warrant. He was buying his time to convince himself that this was necessary.

He was a man in need of revenge—or more precisely, a man who thought he needed revenge. Julia's livelihood was his excuse for the moment, his reassurance that this was his only choice. He was standing on the cusp of a decision I expected he would regret for the remainder of his life.

Archie took a step forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "If you do no wish to assist me then I suggest you leave, Erik. I would be awfully sorry if something happened to you."

"Archie, what will you tell Julia?" I asked.

He began fidgeting with the object behind his back as he stepped on his false leg. He continued to search the room, his chest heaving as he stood before me.

"I won't tell her anything," he muttered. "And you will swear it on your life that you will not say a word either, Monsieur Kire. This is what must be done."

"You're correct, Monsieur Leach, he should die," I replied. "It's as much as he deserves for allowing his sister to suffer all these years.

He stared at me, bewildered by my statement. "You are a sensible man," he said under his breath. With a nod he turned toward the parlor again.

"She will never forgive you," I said before he disappeared.

He paused but refused to look me in the eye. I saw his fist tighten as his fingers curled around the doorknob.

"No matter whether you do this for Julia or not, she will never forgive you if you murder her brother."

I was as surprised by my words as Archie seemed to be. I had no respect for Max Falchetti and certainly no sympathy for that pig of a man, but I knew I needed to respect Julia's wishes. He was her family, as much as I despised him he would always be her brother.

"She doesn't need to know."

"Will you face her?" I asked. He didn't know what it meant to murder someone. I could see it in his eyes that he was reluctant to return to that room. "If you kill him tonight will you have it in yourself to face Julia again?"

"What do you care?" he snapped. "For God's sake, you thought I was attempting to steal her from you the moment you first saw me. You didn't suspect anything was wrong, did you, Monsieur Kire?" He limped forward, his gait hindered more than usual.

I shook my head.

"You didn't know when you saw me standing in her home that I was left with this," he said as he tapped on his knee. His eyes had darkened, his nostrils flared with detestation for the man in his parlor. "You of all people should sympathize with me and beg me to do this."

"You can't," I said simply. "You can't do this."

"Your words mean nothing to me."

"If you wanted him dead you wouldn't be arguing with me," I said.

He had the look of a man on the brink of madness. He was so enraged that he couldn't look me in the eye a moment longer. He faltered, his determination slipping from his grasp.

With a sigh I tossed the cane to the floor and stepped forward. "How did you do it? How did you coax him into your home?"

At last he dropped his arms to his sides and I saw a piece of twisted metal in his hand. There was blood on the end of it, a stain he studied a moment, his face contorting as if he wasn't sure how it had gotten there.

He looked at me again, and at the door behind him.

"I asked him in and he accepted," he said under his breath. "I told him I had forgiven him and he believed me. And then I asked him to join me in the parlor for a drink.

By the look in his eyes I knew this was going to be a very long night indeed.


	71. Max's Fate

E/N In the last chapter I discovered Archie coming out of his parlor. He is apparently holding Max captive.

Ghost71

I realized how much my hand hurt once I was no longer holding the cane. The injury hadn't split open, for which I was thankful, but the healing wound burned.

I glanced at the cane lying on the floor and wondered if I should arm myself again, despite the pain throbbing through my palm.

After what I had seen I didn't want to take my eyes off Archie for long. I wasn't sure how dangerous he was or how greatly his mood would fluctuate, as he was not himself. Luc Testan's words came to mind: the most dangerous animal is a wounded animal and that description fit Archie perfectly.

We were both men of comparable stature, though he had a metal shard in his possession and I had a rapier.

The odds were in my favor, but I didn't want to think about killing or injuring him.

Archie Leach was not my enemy.

I looked up and saw him standing beside the parlor door with his head down and his eyes fixed on the piece of metal in his hand. He looked as though he had calmed down considerably since I had entered his home, but I wasn't certain how long he would remain that way. When I was enraged there was nothing that could stop me; no amount of reasoning or pleading could change my mind.

However, Archie was a much different man than I.

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

He nodded but still didn't look at me. For the moment I would have to take his word for it, as I had no intention of walking past him to satisfy my own curiosity.

"I gagged him," Archie mumbled. "And tied him to the desk."

I watched him closely as he turned over the piece of metal in his hands. He swallowed visibly and inhaled.

"How?" I asked.

"I saw him when he left your home. He was stumbling down the street with his hand against his head. He was weak, I thought, for once in his life he was weak." He looked up at me briefly before he turned the metal scrap faster, his hands trembling.

"Did he come after you?"

Archie shook his head, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I invited him in. When he was at the corner I shouted to him and he turned. Before he reached my door I armed myself with my cane and hit him until he fell. I dragged him onto the rug and pulled him into the parlor. Each time he woke I hit him again until I had him where I wanted him. Then, before I left I gagged him."

His words left me speechless, though as he spoke he seemed almost as surprised as I was.

"I knew what I wanted to do the moment I saw him, what I have waited so long to do. All these years," he said quietly, "but we have never stood on the same plane."

He held out the piece of metal. It looked as if it had been shined.

"Because of this."

I walked toward him and he handed me the metal shard.

"It's a piece of the plow," he said.

I looked from the shard to Archie, dumbfounded by what he possessed. This is what he had pulled from his pocket at the Exposition. He had gone to the fair after entrapping Max in his home. No wonder he had disappeared.

"This is from the accident?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded. "Several years ago I returned to the pond and discovered it had dried up. The plow was gone, of course, but this was in the brush, completely forgotten. There was no rust and the edge was still sharp, which I thought quite peculiar. It was as though all this time it had lain waiting to be found and put to use again."

Archie leaned against the wall, his bad leg evidently unable to support his weight for long. There were scratches up and down his arms, visible through the tears in his shirt. His knuckles were bruised, the skin split.

"I've carried it with me as a reminder of sorts since the day I found it. I've been waiting to show it to Max."

"You intend to murder him with this?"

He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. "I intend to kill him with that, Monsieur."

There was blood on the sharpened edge. I wondered if Max would bleed to death while he lay in Archie's parlor. As much as I loathed him, his death would mean imprisonment and execution for Archie. When I looked at him again I realized that I genuinely cared about whether or not he was sentenced to die.

Other than Charles, Archie was the only man I could call a friend. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I didn't want harm to come to him over someone like Max Falchetti. It galled me that the one person I wanted dead was the person I needed to keep alive.

"Did you stab him?" I asked, keeping the shard in my possession.

His forehead was beaded with sweat, his every breath labored. "No, I tried…" he said under his breath as he stared at the floor. His shoulders began to shake while his face contorted in horror.

I made no reply.

"I tried to stab him," Archie said again, his face becoming blank again and his voice barely a whisper. He looked at his hands, at the deep scratches and bruises on his knuckles before he turned his hands over and studied his palms. The shard had sliced the meaty part of his right palm, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

He instantly began wiping his hands on his pants. His moves became frantic once he realized the blood was dry. I watched him limp down the hall and enter the kitchen where I heard him muttering to himself as he pumped water into the kitchen sink and washed his hands of the blood.

I nudged open the parlor door and saw Max doubled over on the floor, his hands tied above his head. His face was bloodied and he was gagged as Archie had said, but there didn't appear to be any serious injuries. I would know more once his hands were unbound from the desk leg and he was no longer lying on his side. For the moment he would remain right there, as he wasn't conscious.

Archie was leaning over the sink when I walked into the kitchen. He was still breathing hard and his shirt sleeves were soaked up to his elbows. He didn't turn to acknowledge me but flinched and gripped the sink edges harder.

"He's still alive, isn't he?" he asked.

"He is," I said. "He's not conscious."

"I hit him with the ash shovel from the hearth to keep him quiet after Meanie returned home. I didn't want to frighten her … but I did, didn't I?" He looked at his scratched arms again as if noticing the wounds for the first time. "She looked at me as though she had never seen me before."

He stumbled into the dining room and collapsed onto the nearest chair, folding his arms and burying his head.

"This was supposed to make things right," he said against his arms. "The moment I saw him I knew what I had to do, I was ready for him, Erik. I was finally ready for him. And now? I think I've gone mad."

He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes bloodshot, his face deathly white and haggard. "I hate him. Honest to God, I hate him more than anyone in the world, save perhaps Louis Seuratti, but he killed himself," he said weakly. "But I don't want to kill anyone. I wanted to when I had him in there, but then I…I'm not sure. I wanted to leave. I'm not strong enough to do it, to finally finish him."

"You are mistaken, Monsieur Leach," I replied.

He glanced up at me as I stood at the end of the table and I watched as he trained his gaze on the piece of metal in my hand.

"I don't know what to do," he said slowly, the look of horror overcoming his expression once more. "I don't want to enter that room again."

"Change your shirt," I told him as I unbuttoned my jacket and left it slung over the dining room chair. "And stay here."

"What do you intend to do?" he asked, remaining in his chair.

With a deep breath I rolled my shirt sleeves up. "I'm going to attempt to not kill him," I muttered as I walked down the hall.

When I walked into the parlor Max was fully awake and struggling to sit up. He had managed to loosen the gag in his mouth, as Archie hadn't tied it tightly in his haste.Max stopped the moment he saw me and eased back onto the floor.

"Come to finish me?" he asked, spitting blood onto the floor.

With as much calm as I could muster I pulled up a chair and sat several feet away from him. "As much as I would rather have it otherwise, I am the only person who can keep you alive."

My eyes hardened on him and I could tell by the look on his face that he expected me to kill him. When I sat back he glanced around.

"What in the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

I clasped my hands and sat forward. "Lay still and shut up, lest you want me to break your neck. There is much you must understand before you return to Italy alone. I suggest you listen well, Monsieur Falchetti. I would hate for you to leave and miss something important."


	72. Confrontation

For those of you who read Noir: yes, there will be an epilogue. I'll have it posted in the next five days or so.

E/N: Finally it is Max and I meeting face to face. Gabrina owes you all an apology for her delays in posting my chapter. was down and then she had a conference. It is a pity when her life interferes with mine.

Ghost72

Max struggled for a while longer to remove his gag completely, but after several minutes he exhausted himself and rested his head against the floor and fought to keep from vomiting.

Archie must have been nervous when he first tied it, as it wasn't nearly tight enough to keep Max quiet. Soon it wouldn't matter much whether or not he could speak. He would either leave on his own accord or remain bound and gagged as send him on his way in a crate like a wild animal.

There was no place in France for him.

"What language do you prefer?" I asked him in Italian.

"You stupid pig," he coughed, closing his eyes as he waited for the sickness to pass. "You are little more than a barnyard animal in fine clothing."

His words meant nothing to me. No amount of insults would lead me to do anything more than send him away. I would not allow him to martyr himself to keep Julia away from me. I had been away from her for long enough now.

"Julia will be informed of your departure," I told him calmly.

"You can go to hell if you think you're marrying my sister," Max said, gasping for each breath.

I looked away from him for a moment and sighed. He really was an ignorant man, the sort of individual I knew well from the time I was a child.

"You have no idea what hell is," I said under my breath. "To you it is little more than a threat, but you have never experienced true hell, not even today."

He was staring at me when I turned to face him again, his dark eyes narrowed and his teeth biting down on what was left of the gag in his mouth. He began struggling against his restraints, his feet flailing, kicking the wall, arms wildly pulling against his bindings.

"I will not bargain with you," I said once his struggling ceased. "I know well that men like you rely on your outward strength and care nothing for intelligence. Years ago it would have angered me, but now I accept that there are some blessed with physical strength and others blessed with brains. It's rare that there are men who possess both. Strange, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't give a damn about anything you say."

"True, and I don't give a damn about any man who doesn't have Julia's best interest at heart."

He glared at me but said nothing in return.

"When Louis first threatened her, how did you do it?" I asked.

He began to struggle again, so I stretched out my leg and put my foot against his neck. I repeated my words, allowing him to breathe again only when his color changed from pallid to blue.

"Do what?" he coughed.

"How did you look the other way?"

"I never—"

"She's your sister and you allowed another man—a man who wasn't yet her husband—to abuse her. How did you do it? How did you allow it to happen to a member of your own family?"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"He attempted to drown her and you walked away."

"He wouldn't have done it," Max said as he turned his face away. He dry heaved several times, his body convulsing with pending sickness.

"In the years they were married, how many times did you visit her?"

"You are the last person I will answer to," Max growled. "You worthless son of a—"

Again I placed my foot against his throat. "You never saw her. Not once in the five years she spent suffering by his hand. No one in your family came."

"She belonged to him," Max rasped once I allowed him to speak.

"That is arbitrary, Signor Falchetti. Regardless of whom you think she belonged to, didn't she ask you for assistance?" I questioned.

He said nothing though I saw a flicker of shame pass through his gaze.

"How does one completely abandon a member of their family?" I asked. "How does one turn away and leave their son, daughter, sibling, parent to suffer? Answer me, Signor, for I have never quite understood how one discards their own blood."

I could see in Max Falchetti the man my father had been; a brutal, burly man, with hands resembling bear paws and the temperament of a bull. They were ruthless, callous, frightful entities that I often didn't see as human—just as they, in turn, did not see me as part of the human race.

Max turned his head again, but this time he wasn't sick. He didn't want to look at me. Perhaps he was afraid I would see the truth mirrored in his eyes.

"As his wife, he could do to her as he wished," Max said, spitting again.

"While you profited from the arrangement?"

"Never."

"Julia has told me that you and Louis worked together. Once she was widowed her revenue stopped—no doubt due to you. Why is that?"

He refused to answer, so I stood and weighed my options between kicking him in the ribs or stepping on his throat for a third time. The longer I stared at him the more I resisted the urge to watch him suffocate. Since I couldn't murder him, I forced myself to walk away and think of Julia, who was the only reason I needed to keep him alive.

"A contract of sorts, I assume?"

"My family is none of your business," he snapped.

"As far as I am concerned, Signor, you relinquished Julia as part of your family the first day you knew she was being harmed and did nothing to prevent it. Your sister—your own sister-- suffered while you remained at bay. Perhaps it was for money, as I cannot imagine a man such as yourself doing anything for honor or what you perceive as honor. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter to me. You no longer have control over her. I have proposed and I will see to it that she becomes my wife, and then just as you did in the past, you will not interfere."

"I will have you killed if you even attempt to marry her!"

I crossed my arms and sighed as I stood over him. "You are in no position to threaten me," I reminded him. "As much as I would enjoy killing you, I do have the ability to restrain from doing so. In the past I would have strangled you without question, as I have never been a man to tolerate those who irritate me, and you, Signor Falchetti, I find to be a most highly irritating bastard."

"And you are a disgusting beast. It makes me wretch to think that you have ever attempted to bed my sister."

I cracked my knuckles, thinking of Julia and how I would spend the rest of my life with her. Each night I would lie beside her and each morning I would have her in my arms. All I needed to do was return Max to Italy alive.

"It is only because of Julia that you are still alive. You should thank your sister for that when you write to her from Italy and offer your blessing after we are wed."

"She deserves better."

My eyes narrowed as I crouched down beside him and pulled his head back by his hair. "She deserved better than being hit nightly. She deserves a father for her daughter, one who will never raise a hand at her—or her mother—ever. She deserves to live comfortably, not wondering whether she will be able to feed her child or pay her bills. That's what she deserves. That's what we deserve and that's what I will give her. Signor, I will not offer you another chance. You will leave at once and never return here unless Julia sends for you."

"Kill me," he said through his teeth. "I would rather die than know that my sister has resigned herself to living with a monster."

I smiled grimly. "There hasn't been a monster in her life for years now, and as long as I live she will never have one near her again. Return home, Max. There is no place for you here."

He was breathing heavily, and for a while he said nothing at all. I stood over him and watched, waiting for him to further tempt me. If he said anything—anything at all—I would break his hands.

"What does she see in you?" he asked, resting his head against his arms. "Of all the men in Paris, why you?"

"Why did you choose Louis?"

"Our grandfather arranged the marriage," he answered.

"But eventually you profited from it, did you not?"

He glared at me, still struggling against his restraints. "She was fortunate he still married her after she discovered she was with child."

"His child."

"That isn't what Louis said."

The more I listened to him the more I was convinced that Max barely believed his own words. I assumed he had lied to himself for years, blaming Julia for her situation. Perhaps she had blamed herself, much as I had always felt shame for my life, for living in a cellar when I had no choice. It didn't matter. It became my fault, my wrongdoing. I was grateful that my parents allowed me to live in their home, in their presence. For many years I thought of myself as fortunate.

"You gave more clout to his words than your own sister's?" I asked, giving him no time to reply. "Because he provided you with money and she didn't?"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

I wrenched his face toward mine. "I know that for five years I heard a woman beg her husband not to hurt her or her daughter and no one did a damned thing about it. There is nothing else I need to know," I shouted through my teeth.

He stared up at me, his lips thin and tight, nostrils flared.

"Do you want to know why she chooses me? Because in the five years I have known her not once has she sent her daughter to the cellar to keep her from hearing arguments. Not once has she held her hands over her head to stop my fist, and for as long as she wears my ring she will never need to protect Lisette from any man."

"No one knew where she was!" Max shouted in my face. He attempted to pull his wrists apart but managed to do nothing more than hit his face on the desk leg again, which split open a knot on his forehead. "Louis stopped all contact weeks after their wedding. The only address I had for him was a warehouse he owned in Vienna, and no one there knew anything about his private home. It wasn't until Henri--"

I released him, hearing his head thump against the floor as I rose. Julia had said that Henri was one of Louis' cousins. Panic instantly filled my insides. "And where the hell is he?"

"At this hour? With his wife," Max panted. He smiled in satisfaction and rubbed his head against his arms, smearing his blood across his hands. "But you have every right to be concerned. If he weren't married I would have arranged something long ago."

"He's a friend of yours?" I questioned.

"Business partner. The last living Falchetti," Max answered.

I left him where he was for a moment and stalked across the room, throwing the curtains open. From the parlor window I could see my own home, though despite lights in the windows I had no way of knowing whether or not my household was safe or disrupted.

"What did she do to you, Signor? What did Julia do to you that makes you hate her?"

"I don't hate her."

"Then why must you threaten her?" I asked, keeping my back to him.

"I do what is in her best interest, and it is for the best that she returns to Italy."

It surprised me that he answered my question. He was breaking; slowly and steadily, without threats. No amount of torture would draw words from him. He merely had to draw it from himself.

"You will send her to another man who will beat and scar her."

"A woman has her place—"

"By her eye," I said, ignoring him. "She bears a scar near her eye where glass cut her once. Louis threw a vase at her when Lisette was born. Did you know that, Signor? Did you know that he punished her for giving him a daughter?"

Max didn't reply. I could hear him breathing and wondered if he was listening to me.

"He wanted a son," I finished, my teeth gritting. It made my blood boil to think of that miserable man throwing something at her with the intention of doing great damage.

"This was Uncle Luc's idea, wasn't it? He sent you and Archie to torture and kill me, that cowardly bastard," Max accused as he attempted to turn over onto his back. "How much did he pay you, eh? How much did he offer the two of you?"

I glanced at him before I turned away once more. I couldn't merely send him away but I damned well couldn't keep him in Paris.

"Answer me! Who are you working for?" Max said as he thrashed about wildly.

My patience waned.

"I serve no one," I snapped in French before I went to Archie's desk and searched for a knife. "And you are standing on a very thin line between life and death, Monsieur."


	73. Cowardly

Language warning.

Ghost73

Max was breathing in short gasps as I rummaged through Archie's desk. I had only a letter opener at my disposal, which I laid on the desk before I slammed the drawer shut and pressed my palms to the polished oak surface. My heart was beating fast and I realized he was quite fortunate that I had stepped away from him. It had taken considerable control on my part not to step down hard and crush his windpipe.

"Rather civilized for your grotesque appearance, aren't you?" Max coughed.

"If I weren't, you would no longer be alive," I commented.

"How honorable of you," he slurred.

I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him groan as he shifted and spit again. Archie had roughed him up and I was surprised that Max was still conscious and not vomiting more than he had already. He was fortunate he was still coherent, what with the knots on his head. By the sound of his last sentence, however, I assumed he was about to pass out again and would sleep for a while. It crossed my mind that if he fell asleep he might never wake up again.

Begrudgingly I knew I had to keep him awake if he were to remain alive.

"I am keeping my word to Julia."

"What word is that?" he said, his voice strained.

"I promised her that I would respect her wish that you remain alive."

I stared at the letter opener, my teeth gnashing together. My father had been just as belligerent, constantly insulting men he considered beneath him. For most of my life I thought he was infallible, but for years after I had left his house I wished I had murdered him. He had given me nothing, save anger, and I had wanted to return the favor.

But once I roamed the world and met men like my father in the rock quarries and palaces of the orient I began to pity him more than hate him. I realized how insignificant those men truly were—and how they lived their lives fearing others would see past their ruse.

"What are you waiting for, Kire? Kill me, for Christ's sake, and collect your reward."

"There is nothing I would do to risk losing Julia," I said as I pulled the chair out and sat. I opened the drawer again and returned the letter opener, knowing it would only tempt me if I left it on the table. I rubbed my eyes as I tried to ease the headache he was giving me.

"Did you come to her first?" Max questioned suddenly, his voice stronger than before.

I tilted my head back and squinted at the ceiling. "Don't you mean to ask if I hypnotized her like a snake charmer?"

He didn't reply, but I could hear him breathe heavily.

"What does it matter, Monsieur?"

"Tell me. Did you pursue my sister?"

I couldn't tell if he meant to sound sinister or if he was merely asking a question, so I sat for a moment and considered his question. Just as he did not want me questioning him, I didn't want to answer his inquiries.

"What has she told you?" I asked.

He made a sound, a growl of sorts to voice his displeasure. "Her dear brother?" he asked sardonically. "The one who so cruelly abandoned her to her fate?"

He was beginning to irritate me again. I stared at the drawer handle and desperately wanted to take the letter opener from the drawer and stab him in the throat. If he thought it was amusing that he had left Julia while her fiancée attempted to drown her he would pay dearly. Not with his life, because I had promised Julia, but he would pay in the form of pain, and he had no idea that I was no stranger to torture.

"He wouldn't have done it," Max said, his voice low but still strong.

I glanced down but couldn't see anything more than his feet. "Because of money?"

There was no reply. I put my hands on the edge of the desk and pushed forward, but the desk was far too heavy for me to move while sitting down and the pressure bothered my injured hand.

Julia hadn't told me much regarding her family, but I knew enough about them. Julia had told me that at one time Max, Louis, Henri and even Archie had worked together. From what I had witnessed and heard I knew that Max and Henri were related and good friends and that Louis and Max had been close. Archie, apparently, was not a member of their despicable pack.

"Her marriage to Louis was valuable, wasn't it?" I asked. He still said nothing and I wondered if he had passed out again. "Valuable to the Falchettis and the Seurattis—too valuable for you to interfere or for Louis to kill her."

His feet moved and I knew he was listening to me.

"What, then? It was merely to frighten her? He wanted her to know that at any time he could kill her if she did anything to anger him?"

"I don't know what the hell he wanted."

"And you didn't care. As long as you received your payment."

"No."

My anger flared. I gripped the desk, heedless of my injured hand, and stared at the wall, knowing that if I saw even his feet I would want to rip him to shreds. There was nothing I could do about the past, but I knew that if I had known her in those days no one would have ever abandoned her. It infuriated me that I hadn't been there for her long ago. Even if I hadn't known her I wished I could have saved her from the life she had lived.

"What is she to you, Max?" I asked with cold precision.

"I owe you nothing, least of all answers. Kill me and be done with it."

"You treat her as though she is a worthless animal, like a bitch used for breeding. Give her to the nearest dog and look the other way, is that it?"

"Shut up," he said under his breath.

I wanted him to tempt me, to bring me to my feet and give me good reason to stab him in the throat. Everything I had promised Julia was fading away as my own desires to kill him penetrated my good sense. There was no one I could think of who deserved to die as much as Max Falchetti. It would be my pleasure to leave him burning in hell beside Louis Seuratti.

"She protected you," I said. "Julia knew if I met a man who had ever hurt her I would not welcome him into my home. I have no respect and absolutely no tolerance for men such as yourself."

"You think you're better than I am, don't you? Because you've persuaded her, you think you're better than me."

"No, Monsieur, I am a much worse man than you will ever be, I assure you. In my lifetime I have traveled the world and seen sights that you cannot ever imagine. I know how to strip a man of his flesh, inch by inch and keep him alive until I deem it is time for him to die. I have seen the most lavish palaces and the most beautiful women in the world. I have seen the filthiest, most rancid slums and the most pathetic, worthless beggars and thieves. The world is heavily populated with fools, Max, pompous, irritating, cruel men."

"Bragging?"

"What reason do I have to brag?" I asked, leaning back and closing my eyes.

"Strip me of my flesh, inch by inch," he said sardonically.

"As I said before, Max, there are men who rely on their intelligence and men who rely on their strength. Your strength has failed you. Now you are at my mercy—and I dare say you were also at Archie's mercy."

"He's a weak, cowardly bastard."

I slammed my fist onto the table and rose, staring down at him once more. "The weak are the one who lie in shadow and draw their knives against unsuspecting throats, or who take women by the hair and force their heads beneath water. The weak are the ones that prey on women and children, or who turn away when they need help. You're apparently too stupid to know weakness."

He began to struggle again, but he was too weak to do more than flounder around before he pathetically gave up.

"God knows why, but she loves you still. She fears you, but she still loves you. Do you know why, Monsieur?"

"Shut up," he said through his teeth.

"Because you are her brother and she values her family. Did you know that, Max? Do you know how much she cares for you? For her brother, who was a weak, cowardly bastard."

I expected him to thrash about again, to scream and yell as he fought his restraints. I knew what he wanted to tell me. He would resort to name-calling, which I was fully prepared to hear from his ignorant mouth.

"You have no place here, Max," I said calmly. "Go home."

He didn't look at me or make any protest. With his face against the rug he started to cry.

Before I could say a word, the parlor door cracked open and Archie stood staring at me. He ignored Max and mouthed to me, "Julia is here."

With a nod, I left Max alone.


	74. Realization

**Please go to my website and visit the Phan Support page to vote on four entries which are competing for prizes in a contest I'm holding. There are two serious literary works and two comedy entries. You may vote once on each! Feedback, if you have comments, can be left in the guest book. Thanks!**

Since it's been so long: E/N In the last chapter Max had finally broken down. Before I had a chance to confront him Archie returned and said Julia had come in.

* * *

Ghost74 

Julia had a damp cloth in her hands when I walked into the hall. She looked bewildered but smiled at me, her face strained to form the expression.

"Are you all right?" she asked me.

I nodded. "I'm fine."

Relief showed in her eyes as she forced another smile. Before I could come to her, she looked away.

"Archie," she said quietly, turning her attention back to him.

He came to her with his head down and stood for a moment as she spoke quietly to him. She ran the cloth over his right hand, which was bruised and swollen from hitting Max. He looked uncomfortable with Julia studying his hand but he made no protest.

"I don't know what else to say," I heard him tell her.

"You've told me enough," she whispered back.

"Julie, my dear—"

I looked away as Archie reached for her. I heard him whimper softly as Julia pulled his arms away and patted his shoulder. She said something more, but I didn't hear her words. With a sullen nod, Archie walked upstairs, never glancing back as he left me alone with Julia.

"How bad is it?" she asked, not looking me in the eye.

"I didn't—"

"Archie told me he was responsible. How badly is my brother hurt?" she asked.

She sounded angrier than she appeared, however I suspected she was upset with Archie more than anyone else. I wasn't certain why, but I wanted to defend Archie and give Julia reason to believe her brother had deserved everything that had happened—and a great deal more.

"I think he will survive, albeit with a severe headache. But I don't believe Archie had any intention of killing him."

She glanced at me. "Yes, he did. He told me he did. He looked me in the eye and told me there was nothing he wanted more than to kill Max. He said he's waited years for this opportunity."

I exhaled. "Perhaps at first he thought it was what he wanted, but Archie never would have done it. He couldn't, Julia. He's not a killer and I think he showed that today."

"He came to me. He said you would take care of Max," she said. I started to shake my head but she looked at me and I immediately fell silent. "You're right. He was completely appalled by what had happened."

"Good," I said.

She looked at me strangely but nodded nonetheless. "He had good reasons for wanting to kill him," she said lowly. "But I never realized how bitter he was, how angry he was after what had happened. He always seemed so…happy, I suppose, as though he had forgotten the accident."

She hugged herself and shivered. "No one forgets something like that, do they?"

I shook my head. I knew longing and vengeance well. Archie had harbored his desire for revenge long enough for the lines between sense and madness to blur. On the outside he was comfortable, but on the inside he was writhing with unabashed hatred.

His was a perfect mask, one adorned with peculiar habits that distracted him from what lay beneath.

"I thought you had good reasons to kill him too, after what he said to you this afternoon…"

She pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment, her feet shuffling toward me. I met her in the middle of the hall and swept her into my arms, holding her tightly, wanting nothing more than to comfort her.

Julia remained very quiet for a long moment. She felt limp in my embrace, as though her fatigue and fears had come to a head and left her too exhausted to stand for a second longer.

"I need to apologize to you," Julia whispered. She started to move away but I held her tighter and kissed her forehead, which made her settle again. "I'm so ashamed."

I pressed my hand to the side of her head and ignored her words.

"Erik?" she questioned.

I kissed her forehead once more. "You have no reason to apologize to me and no reason to be ashamed. You've done nothing wrong."

"He can be very cruel sometimes," Julia admitted. "Archie is not the only one who wishes him pain."

We stared at one another for a moment before I nodded. "You know how I feel about him. He knows it as well, and he knows how I feel for you, Julia. No one will ever hurt you. Not ever."

"I know, but I still thought for certain you would kill him," she said, burying her face against my chest.

I kissed the top of her head and closed my eyes. "I promised you."

Julia sighed in relief as she tilted her head up and looked into my eyes. Her fingers caressed the left side of my face and she smiled.

"I know you did, but…"

"For you," I said, running my finger along her chin. "I did it for you. Anything you ask of me, I will do for you."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but there was no sadness in her eyes. She smiled at me and held me tighter.

"I was frightened for you," she said as she took my hand. "I was frightened for you and Archie because Hermine didn't know what had happened. When Archie appeared at your home…" she stopped and pursed her lips. "I thought something happened to you and I felt terrible, not only because I was worried about you but because I didn't even think of Max. I wasn't afraid for him. What does that make me?"

She started to cry against my shoulder, her body shaking with emotion. It had been a long night for both of us, one we would remember for the rest of our lives. Given the circumstances, I couldn't help but think that we had all been fortunate. What transpired between Archie and Max could have been much worse.

"He's never given you a reason to be afraid for him."

"But he's my brother," she whispered between her tears. "And I didn't think about him once."

It made me sick to think that she blamed herself for their rift. She would defend him no matter what, even if she didn't always think of him first. But I didn't want her haunted by this ghost, by these feelings of guilt for something she had no control over.

"He hasn't earned it yet," I said. I held her tighter and kissed her again, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "He hasn't earned your regard."

"He shouldn't need to earn anything from me. We're family."

"By blood," I said. "Family is more than blood, Julia, and he has been nothing more than your brother by name."

She wiped her eyes and looked up at me again. She was my family, she was meant to be my wife and Lisette was meant to be my daughter, just as Meg and Madeline were more like my family than the man and woman who had allowed me to exist in their home but not in their lives.

After years of struggling with myself and with the world I had earned my right for a family. When I looked into Julia's eyes I knew where I belonged. Despite my appearance and despite my wrongdoings I had found redemption. No one would take it from me, not now, not ever.

Julia exhaled raggedly and closed her eyes. "I must see him," she said. "I must see Max. Please understand…"

With a nod I gripped her shoulders, knowing it was inevitable that she would want to see her brother. The last thing I wanted was for her to see him alone, as I knew it would give him an advantage over her.

She looked uncertain at first when I told her I would accompany her, but she seemed to understand my concerns.

"Give me at least a moment alone with him," she said. "And then you may join us."

It wasn't my ideal, but it was better than nothing. "Leave the door open," I said. "I want to hear what he says to you." She looked away from me and I squeezed her tighter. "I don't trust him, Julia, not at all."

She nodded. "But I still need to see him."

"He will not keep you from me," I said, locking my eyes on her. "If Henri Falchetti was not married I have no doubt he would…"

"I know," Julia said before I finished. She touched her index finger to my lips and smiled weakly in understanding. "His wife is Louis' sister, so he is considered a Falchetti anda Seuaratti."

"What do you consider him?"

"A cousin and nothing more. I see his wife occasionally and she always mentions her cousin, who is a widower. I've met him once or twice and he's a very nice man, but I have no desire to have my marriage arranged."

"Her cousin works with them," I said.

"No, he's a baker, but Henri and Max are convinced that if we were married he would join their business, which would help them financially. That is what happened with my sister Anne's husband."

She was like a pawn to them, shifting back and forth in order to further their business.

"When I spoke to Max he called Henri the last living Falchetti."

She exhaled. "Yes, he's the last male in our family."

I shook my head. "Your brother is a Falchetti. That makes no sense."

"Yes, I know, but…Henri had two sons, but they were both killed. Now he has only a daughter left."

"And your brother is unmarried?"

"He's been married twice."

Her words surprised me but I kept quiet.

"And he has no desire to marry again?"

Julia looked away. "Max cannot father children."

No wonder he wasn't concerned about his own life. The Falchetti line ended with him, and if I had killed him he would have guaranteed that I didn't marry Julia, which left her able to marry Louis' cousin.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked her.

"Would it have done any good?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure what it would have done, save give me a way to shame him.

Julia kissed me once before she stepped away and nudged the door open. "I think now Max will listen to me," she said before she entered the parlor and left the door cracked open.

"Max, my God," I heard her whisper before I stepped away and closed my eyes, giving them a moment alone.

I leaned against the wall and heard Max beg her to untie him. Gone was the gruff insistent tone of a man who controlled his sister. In his place was a frightened, sniveling creature begging for mercy. In his place was the man that been there all along.


	75. Too Often

Ghost75

"Untie me," Max said again.

Julia hesitated.

"Julia."

"Max, I can't."

I could hear Max exhale hard. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why? Why, Julia?"

She was silent again. I inched closer to the wall, wondering if she would give into his pleas. He was injured, but I didn't trust what he would do if he was untied.

"Because I don't trust you, Max."

They were both quiet for a while and I considered walking into the parlor to see what had happened. Julia was quite brave to deny her brother's demands, but I still felt I should be near her.

I decided I would count to five. If she didn't say anything before then I would walk in, bidden or not.

Max chuckled to himself. "I suppose you don't."

"Why is that amusing?" Julia snapped.

I held back, allowing her another moment alone with him. Perhaps she was better on her own, confronting him face to face without me looking over her shoulder. Reluctantly I stayed in place and grit my teeth, thinking of what I would do to Max if he dared to hurt her. It didn't matter to me whether he hurt her physically or through his words. I would not tolerate either.

"Max, why is that amusing?" she asked again, her voice like a growl leaving her lips. She was livid. I could picture her standing over him, her hazel eyes hard and her hands on her hips.

"Oh, hell, Julia. Untie me."

"No, Max," she shouted. "No, I'm not helping you."

"Is that what he told you to do, huh? Leave me here like an animal waiting for slaughter? You listen to him, do you? To that thing?"

"He's a man," she said, her voice low. "More so than you, than Louis, than Henri or any other man in our family."

"Because he promises you foolish things?"

Something rustled and I stepped forward, peering through the crack in the door. Julia had pulled up her sleeve. She saw me from the corner of her eye but didn't say anything or turn toward me.

"Look at me," she said to Max.

"Untie me."

"I said look at me," she said through her clenched teeth.

When he didn't comply she bent down and slapped him across his bruised and bloodied face.

"Look at me!"

He peered up at her, grunting and struggling against his restraints. "Don't you ever hit me again, Julia."

She shoved her exposed arm in his face. "What do you see?" she demanded.

I had never seen Julia so insistent. Her hand was balled into a fist and I thought she might strike him again. Indeed, I wanted her to strike him again, but she held back her anger and glared at him, her face set in a scowl.

"I don't see anything," Max groaned, turning his face away.

"Precisely," she said, rising to her full height. "In five years, there has never been a bruise on my arms, face, nothing. Because he's a man, not a beast."

"What can he offer you? Hmm? I allowed you five years to do as you pleased, to ruin your name, your reputation, your daughter's future. Five years, Julia, and now what? You have no money. Everything Louis left you is gone. You need to have sufficient finances of your own, Julia."

"This is the first time in years that I've seen you, Max. Don't tell me what I need. You know nothing about me or my life or your niece."

"Because no one knew where the hell you were," Max retorted.

"Uncle Luc knew."

"And he didn't tell anyone," Max grumbled.

"Did you ask him? When you started telling the whole family to ignore him because he was a stupid old man who couldn't keep his wits about him did you ask him where I was?"

"Damn it, Julia, I've asked you enough times to release me from this desk, now do it! Untie me now!"

"Did you look for me, brother?" Julia asked, her voice low and trembling. "Did you ever look for me? Ever?"

The only sound coming from Max was his harsh breathing. He pulled at his wrists again, yanking and breathing harder and harder until I thought he had passed out. I nudged the door open but Julia looked directly at me and shook her head.

"Who's there?" Max asked. "Your shepherd? Has he come to watch over you, his innocent little lamb?"

"Why do you want me to hate you so much?" Julia asked, stomping toward him again. "Did I do something to hurt you?"

Max made no reply and I saw Julia turn away and momentarily hold her hands over her mouth. She was refusing to cry in front him, refusing to allow him to hurt her any more than he already had.

"We were friends," she said. "You and I and Anna were once close, Max. Everyone always said how good you were to us, how protective you were of your sisters."

"So what?"

"Why did you change? If I never did anything to hurt you then why did you desert me?"

"You were married and chose to move to this city, not me."

"Before that," she said hastily. "You know what I'm talking about, Max. You're not as foolish as you're pretending."

"What do you want from me? Clearly you're beyond all reason, Julia."

"Why did you walk away that afternoon?" she asked, ignoring his words. "Why did you leave me with him?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "With your fiancé?" he asked, making her question sound preposterous. "You're overreacting. You were always so driven by emotion. Is that how that man in the hallway is as well, eh? Governed by his emotions?"

"This has nothing to do with Erik and I will not tolerate you speaking of him in this manner. He's good to me and he's good to Lisette and that's all I want for the rest of my life, Max. Why can't you allow me this? I married Louis for you. You formed your partnerships and made your money. Don't ask more of me than I have already given. Tell me why you walked away from me."

"Has he twisted your mind this much?"

"Answer me, Max."

"Answer what?"

Her patience waned. I saw her shoulders rise in aggravation, her posture turning rigid as he continued to show his belligerent nature.

"I want to know why you left me that day," she said, her voice so strained that I thought for certain she would break down. "I want to know why I'm no longer your sister."

Max fought against the restraints, his feet kicking the wall in staunch determination. He made himself sick, the result of his head injuries, blood loss, and fatigue.

"You're still my sister," he coughed.

"Look me in the eye and say it again."

"Julia, you think I don't care about you, you foolish girl?"

"Because you left me!" she yelled. "He had me by the hair and you kept walking. How? How could you have walked away from me?"

He exhaled again, having no answer to her question. It saddened me that he could be so callous, especially when her emotions were so raw. She wanted him to be her dear brother again but he would have none of it.

"And today," she continued. "What you did to Madame Giry. How could you? How could you hurt her, Max? For God's sake you don't even know her and you attempted to hurt her."

"You are just as uncaring as me," Max muttered.

"Don't you dare—"

"If you care for me as your brother then you will untie me at once. This is ridiculous, Julia. You speak of me as being the callous one, yet you derive pleasure in my suffering."

"You can't bribe me, Max. You can't make me pity you, fear you, or obey you. I won't do it anymore. We could remain here all night and argue over this. You could insult me, my daughter, my fiancé—and I could insult you and your ex-wives. But I won't do it anymore, Max. I'm not afraid anymore."

"Julia, this utterly mad."

"I'm not afraid of Louis anymore and I'm not afraid of you, either. You need to return home. You need to let me be now. I can't be your sister anymore, not as we were when we were children."

"I'm not asking—"

"You need to listen to me," she continued, her voice becoming strangely calm. "Erik Kire has asked me to marry him and I have agreed to be his wife. There is no money involved in my commitment, no promise of fortune to anyone in my family. I will marry him because it is my desire to do so."

"No, you won't."

"I will not ask for your permission," she said, not skipping a beat. "For five years I've lived on my own. You will not return and make demands of me. I'm sorry, Max."

"Julia, listen to reason."

"I've made my decision." She looked at me then and smiled, nodding in silent permission for me to join her.

I entered the room and watched her kneel down beside Max. She swept his hair back from his face and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"When I untie you I will clean your wounds and then it's over," she said, reaching for his wrists. "You must return home by morning. I can't have you in my home any longer. Please, Max, as your sister I ask you to leave us in peace."

He remained silent as he watched her tug on the knots. It made my stomach churn and my pulse quicken as I prepared to restrain him if he lunged at her. Already I wished she had allowed someone else to free him.

To my surprise he didn't move once his wrists were untied and the gag removed from where it had dangled around his neck. He watched Julia for a while as she sat on her knees and stared at the bloodied restraints.

"I disapprove," he said as he struggled to sit upright. He immediately clutched his head in his hands and groaned. Julia sat forward, still intending to help him but he moved her hands away.

I started to step forward, not wanting him to touch her at all but Julia tossed the restraints at my feet. In my moment of hesitation I watched as Max raised his swollen hand to her face and grazed his finger along her right temple, over the scar Louis had left on her face.

One snide comment and I would break his damned neck. God have mercy on his soul if he struck her.

"Signor," I started.

His hand lingered near her face, his expression slowly changing from anger to utter exhaustion and sorrow.

"How often?" he asked.

I knew what he asked and Julia knew as well. She moved his hand from her face and looked away.

"Too often," she answered before she climbed to her feet and wrapped her arm around my waist. "And never again. Goodbye, Max."


	76. One End, One Beginning

Ghost77

Max returned home ahead of me and Julia, and once I saw him stagger around the corner I knew that Julia would stay in my house for the night while he packed and prepared to return to his home.

If Max changed his mind—and with men such as he it would be impossible to predict—she would be safe, as would her daughter. They were my priorities now.

It was an empowering thought to have both Julia and Lisette in my home. It felt right and I couldn't help but think that it sounded right when I said to myself that my wife and daughter were at home. Calling Lisette my step-daughter didn't feel comfortable, though I wasn't quite sure why that was, as I hadn't spoken much to her.

Fortunately I had Alex, who spoke of her so fondly that I felt as though I already knew her. Given everything Julia had said to me, I hoped Lisette felt the same toward me.

"I will walk Hermine home," I told Archie before Julia and I left his home.

He still seemed quite distracted, and though I couldn't smell alcohol on his breath he appeared as though he had been drinking.

He shook his head, his eyes averted. He and Julia were standing at a distance and I noticed that he refused to look in her direction. "I would like to walk to your house if you wouldn't mind, Monsieur. I'd like to see Ruby."

I assumed it would do him some good to get fresh air, if even for a moment. "She would appreciate you walking her home, I'm sure."

"It is late," Julia said.

Archie glanced at her and nodded.

"She would feel safer with you at her side," Julia nodded.

I could tell by her expression that she didn't want Archie to become a stranger. Already she had asked her brother to leave, which was difficult for her, but she and Archie had a much better relationship. She had forgiven him. She didn't have it in her to remain angry with him.

"Don't you think Ruby would want Archie to walk her home, Erik?"

"Of course," I said.

"Will you join us?" Julia asked Archie.

He shook his head. "I don't want to intrude," he mumbled.

"You're not—"

"I need to clean up a bit," Archie said before she finished. "I've—I've made a mess, I think, a terrible mess around here."

"Tomorrow, if you wish, I will help you clean up," Julia offered.

His lips parted but he didn't say anything for a long moment. At last he nodded and half-smiled, looking her in the eye for the first time since Max had left.

"Thank you," he said simply before he saw us to the door.

Archie and I shook hands and Julia embraced him. With his face against her shoulder I heard him tell her, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Julia said.

Julia and I spoke little during the walk to my house. I wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed, but the only thing I cared about was returning home and finally finding peace, as it had been a long and hellish day.

"Do you think Max will return home?" I asked. "Without any further incident?"

Julia nodded but didn't look at me. "I think so," she said, holding my arm tighter. "I think he will leave in the morning." She glanced at me briefly. "If he's physically able to…"

"He walked home," I said under my breath.

I had no remorse for him and I wanted Julia to feel the same. He brought everything upon himself. If only she could understand that.

"Yes, he did," she said. I looked at her and she frowned. "I hope he returns home safely," she whispered, and with that the conversation ended.

I suspected she was saddened by his leave-taking, regardless of whether or not she had wanted him to visit. He had betrayed her, and probably to her nothing was more painful than losing the loyalty and respect of one's family. I could not remember a day in my life when I felt I could trust my parents, but long ago when I first met Christine and Madeline I had felt as though Christine was part of my family, part of who I was, and when she left me? It was only through her that I knew personal loss.

However, Julia mourned something that was real. She and Max had evidently been close at one time. His departure would be devastating even when she knew in her heart that she couldn't ask him to stay. Still I wondered what made Julia so certain that Max would leave without an argument.

However, the day had been long enough and I decided not to continue with a barrage of questions. Julia looked tired and I assumed she wanted to see her daughter as much as I wanted to see Alex. I worried about him and how the events of the day would affect him. He was old enough to comprehend everything around him and I knew he was not afraid to ask questions. I had no doubt that what had transpired between Max and me would be one of many things he would want explained.

Madeline and Ruby were both waiting at the front door when we approached. Madeline whispered something to Ruby and she nodded before returning inside, leaving Madeline alone on the porch.

She immediately ran down the front steps and wrapped her arms around Julia, patting her back and kissing her cheek.

"Julia, you've been gone so long," Madeline said. "I was worried."

"How is Lisette?" Julia asked.

"She's fine. She's sleeping in my room."

"Good evening," I said as I smirked at Madeline, who had barely thrown me a glance. She was incredibly fickle to be angered by Julia one day and embracing her the next. It was good to see them together again, good to see the pieces fitting together for once—all in my favor.

Madeline looked at me sternly and pinched my arm. "Enough of this!" she said, further giving me hell by slapping my arm where she had pinched it.

"Indeed," I said as I stepped away from her.

"You will put me in my grave," she said as she shook her finger at me. "I don't want to hear another word from you until morning. You've had me worried sick for hours, Erik. You and your—your running about, you foolish man!"

Before I could say a word she wrapped her arms around my neck. "Thank God," she said in my ear. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Where is Alex?" I asked.

"Sleeping in his room. I believe Charles and he were reading before bed. I told him he would see you in the morning."

"How is he?" I asked.

"He's fine. He was worried, of course, but Charles insisted that he continue with his studies. Latin occupied his time and you know how he feels about Latin."

I nodded, grateful to have Charles in my home. He could keep Alexandre occupied like no one else and genuinely seemed to enjoy teaching my son.

Madeline tisked herself. "Oh, but this may wait until morning. Go on now. Go upstairs and go to bed. You look simply dreadful."

I felt simply dreadful. My hand hurt, my head pounded, and my eyes felt gravelly. I assumed that Madeline allowed Julia to walk upstairs with me simply because she knew we would do nothing more than collapse into bed. I was almost asleep when Madeline tapped on the door and gave Julia one of Meg's old night dresses. She asked Julia one last time if she wanted to room with Lisette, but Julia said she was far too exhausted to walk down the stairs again. It surprised me that Madeline made no further comment. She said something about the wedding being so close that she could taste the cake and then she left.

Julia turned down the lamp and crawled into bed, which was far more comforting than arousing. Her hair smelled like almonds and her skin was so smooth and soft that I could have lain in bed with her for the rest of my life and merely held her against me.

"The wedding," she murmured.

I grunted and kissed the back of her neck.

"I do think I like the sound of Julia Kire," she said. She reached back and touched my cheek and I kissed her fingers.

I chuckled into her hair. "As do I," I replied before my eyes closed.

"Erik?"

I grunted again.

"In the morning, when I wake, you'll be here."

"Yes," I said, smiling against her skin.

"And every morning when I wake you'll be here with me," she said. She turned her face and I kissed her cheek.

My lips were wet and I touched my hand to her face. "Why are you crying?" I asked as I reached for the lamp.

"I'm fine," she said, sniffling. "Now that it's over I feel fine."

With a sigh I settled into bed beside her again and dozed for a moment before Julia asked if I were still awake.

"This feels right," she murmured.

"Better than Bessie," I mumbled before I fell asleep with my arm around her. The last thing I heard was her laughing to herself.


	77. Peaceful Morning

E/N Julia and I get a little frisky. This is your pg-13 warning of content, though it isn't graphic. Send your complaints to Gabrina.

Ghost78

Aria was purring in my ear when I woke before sunrise. She licked my cheek and stepped on my head, which was uncovered. It was far too uncomfortable to wear a hairpiece throughout the night, so while Julia was fast asleep I had removed it and set it on the bedside table. My intention was to replace it before she woke, but I was far more exhausted than I first thought, and when I woke it was to Julia smiling at me in the pre-dawn light.

"You look suspicious," I said, my voice deepened from sleep. I reached over her and turned up the lamp so that I could see her better.

She gave a little shrug, one so coy that I forgot how tired I had been and kissed her full on the lips as my arm snaked around her and drew her to me.

Julia laughed against my lips, a little chuckle of appreciation for my exuberance as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me back.

"I knew you were trouble," she said softly as she closed her eyes again and rubbed her nose against mine.

"You don't know what trouble is," I murmured, rubbing her back, feeling the warmth of her body through her nightgown.

She opened her eyes again. "Everyone else is still sleeping," she said.

"Let them sleep," I said to her, kissing her again.

We kissed for a while, lazy, sensual kisses growing deeper the longer we lay next to each other. It amazed me how good she always smelled and how soft her skin was when I touched her. She felt perfect to me. Everything about her was immaculate and unmatched by anyone else in the world.

"Your cat is staring," Julia said with a giggle.

I picked up Aria, who was far too curious, and dropped her on the floor. She gave a mew of protest but decided she would rather sit in the window than risk being dropped on the floor again.

With the cat gone I returned my attention to Julia. She ran her fingers through my thin hair and studied my eyes.

"What is it?" I asked.

She took her time answering, and the longer she caressed my temples and neck the more relaxed I became. She made me feel calm beside her, unafraid of being without my hair and mask.

"What is your last name?" she asked.

"Kire. You know that," I said.

She smiled and wiggled closer to me. "I mean your real last name, not the one you made up."

I sighed as I looked away from her. "I don't know. Why?"

"I was just wondering."

I grunted. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. It's just that…" Her voice trailed away and she shrugged again.

"What, Julia?"

"Do you ever wonder where the rest of your family is? Cousins, aunts, uncles…brothers and sisters?"

"No," I answered flatly.

"I apologize," she said, resting her hand against the side of my face.

"I'm not angry. It's just not important to me, I suppose. And besides, if there were others they probably never knew I existed. What would be the purpose in finding them now?"

Julia looked uncomfortable suddenly. "You're right," she said softly.

I tilted her face to mine so that our eyes met. "Everything I've wanted in life is in this house right now. My son, my daughter, my mother, my sister and her husband, and most of all you…here, in my home as I always wanted. I don't need anyone else."

Neither of us spoke for a while. The house was still and the only sound I heard was Julia breathing against my face. I kissed her again, feeling her fingers against the bare skin of my stomach.

"Do you think we should?" Julia whispered.

"Yes," I answered.

Julia's smile widened. "I don't have anything."

"Pardon me?" I asked, inching her nightgown up to her thighs.

"My tin container. I don't have anything. There's a chance that if we continue…"

"You are attempting to kill me, Julia," I said as kissed her again. "You cannot put a steak before a dog and expect him to merely look at it. Eventually he wants a taste," I said as I pinned her beneath me and kissed her deeply. She exhaled hard, shivering with anticipation. "By God, don't ask me to stop now."

She cupped my face in her hands. "I won't. I want to, if you want to."

That was all the answer I needed as I captured her lips against mine.

Over her soft moans I heard Alexandre stomping up the stairs. He pounded on the door and tried the doorknob, which immediately drew a scolding from Meg. I thought Julia was going to jump out of her skin. Her strength seemed to increase as she pushed against my shoulders and forced me back onto my side of the bed.

"Hell," I whispered. My son had impeccable timing.

"What did I tell you, Alexandre? Your father is sleeping!"

"But Aunt Meg, I hear him moving in there!" Alex whispered back loudly.

"Alexandre Kire you come down here at once!"

"Where is Madame Seuratti?"

There was a short pause on Meg's behalf and I heard Julia gasp in horror. I smiled against Julia's shoulder. She swatted me away. "This is not amusing. He's going to catch us!" Julia muttered.

"She's sleeping," Meg said flatly.

"But where? Lisette is in grand-mere's room, I was in my room, you and Charles have your own room…where is Madame Seuratti?"

"That's quite enough, young man. Come down here at once!"

"Aww, Aunt Meg…" Alex whined.

I heard him stomp down the stairs again as Julia shot up in bed and scrambled for her clothes which were neatly folded on my desk chair.

"We shouldn't have done this," she mumbled.

"We haven't done anything," I sighed, turning onto my back. "However, if you'd like to make it worth the fuss…"

She gave me an arched look.

"Well, you can't walk downstairs now. He'll know where you slept."

Julia frowned. "What will he think of me?"

I shrugged. "I doubt he'll give it much thought."

"Your son won't give it much thought?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "Alexandre is not the type of child who settles for a simple answer."

I sat up and turned my head side to side to stretch my tight muscles before I motioned her back to me. With her shoulders dropped in reluctance, she came and sat down on my lap.

"Come back to bed," I whispered, wrapping my arm around her waist. "And I promise I won't touch you."

She rested her forehead against mine. "That's not what I want," she said.

"Good," I said as I rocked her to the side and tossed her gently on the bed. "Because lying with you is torture."

Julia laughed when I kissed her neck, and as I straddled her I felt her playfully club at my back.

"Is this what I must tolerate each morning for the rest of my life?" she asked, smiling as she gazed into my eyes.

"I wouldn't mind twice a morning," I said as I locked my arms around her and rolled her on top of me.

She let out a yelp of surprise that was muffled against my shoulder. Her hair fell around her face and brushed against my neck and chin. I gripped her around the hips and ran my hands over her lower back and buttocks.

"Erik, you must understand what sort of chance we're taking," she said as I kissed her mouth again. "This may be enjoyable for a half-hour."

"Give me some credit," I said, drawing her nightgown further up her legs. "An hour, at least."

"This is serious," she said, her voice breathy and hot against my face. "You said you didn't want more children. If something were to happen there's nothing to be done."

"You want another child?" I asked, propping myself up on my forearms.

She searched my eyes before she nodded. "With you, yes. I want to have a family with you. I know that together you and Alexandre will be part of my family, but don't you think it would be nice to have a child of our own?"

The last thing I wanted to do was think when I barely had a drop of blood left in my brain. I wanted what the rest of my body was telling me I would die without, but Julia insisted that we consider the future of what our actions could bring.

With a sigh I dropped my arms to my sides.

"You may as well kill me now," I muttered as I ran my hands over my face.

Julia rolled to her side and rubbed my chest and stomach. "Do you know what I noticed?" she asked.

"Concerning?"

"Last night."

"When last night? At Archie's home?"

"No, when you were sleeping."

I felt myself tense as I shook my head.

Her eyes were drawn to my injured hand, the hand I had sliced open during my rage. There was a sorrowful look on her face as she gently touched my hand, but when she gazed into my eyes again she smiled.

"You slept soundly," she whispered, kissing me on the lips again. "You didn't wake once that I know of."

"I was exhausted."

She nodded. "And I think you were comfortable, weren't you?"

We stared at one another for a moment before I nodded. "We could be much more comfortable," I said, leaning into her.

Julia scoffed. "I want to speak with you, Erik."

"I don't want to speak when I'm in bed with you."

She smiled again, the same seductive grin that had been on her face the moment I woke.

"It won't be long before I'm your wife. We can decide then if we want another child," she said, her voice dropping low and husky. Her hand moved lower and I swallowed hard, my eyes locked on hers. "Because right now, neither of us is thinking clearly."

"Indeed," I murmured. She stole the breath from my lungs as she caressed me, setting my blood on fire.

"We need to make a list of wedding guests," Julia whispered.

"A-a- what?"

"A list of who we want to invite," she explained. She could have been speaking in tongues for all I cared.

"Fine," I managed to say.

"Who do you want to—"

I kissed her lips and silenced her in the same way she had left me speechless, and it was well into morning before we emerged from my room.


	78. Celebration

Ghost79

Alexandre was quite gifted at asking hundreds of innocent questions, all of which made people terribly uncomfortable and self-conscious. I could hear him speaking to Julia as I dressed for breakfast. Bessie and Aria had both come into my room, as I had left the door ajar so that I could hear Alex speaking. His words and Julia's answers made me smile as I listened to Meg remind him that it was rude to ask too many questions.

"You don't mind, do you, Madame Seuratti?" Alex asked.

"No, not at all," Julia said, hesitating just enough for me to notice. She had no idea what she was in for, which made my eavesdropping all the more enjoyable.

"I was looking for you," he said. "I looked all over the house."

"Alex," Meg interjected.

"You shouldn't trouble yourself so, Alex," Julia replied.

"It was no trouble," he said. "Where were you?"

"Alex, please," Meg said. He exasperated her more than anyone in the house and I had no doubt that her condition was partly to blame for her lack of patience. "You'll give Julia a headache."

"I'm not doing anything," he muttered. "Am I, Madame Seuratti?"

"What did you eat for breakfast, Alex?" Julia asked, attempting to redirect his thoughts.

I buttoned my shirt and shook my head. She would need to try harder than that if she wanted to change the subject.

"Nothing. But do you smell that?"

"Yes, what is that?"

"It smells like Ruby." He made me laugh out loud. Clearly he was still smitten with our cook.

"Why haven't you eaten breakfast yet? It's almost noon. A boy like you needs to eat so that you can grow big and strong, like your father."

"I was waiting for you and Father. Where is Father?"

"I think he's still dressing," Julia answered.

"Are you going to stay here every night?" Alex asked. "Or is Father still going to spend his nights at your house?"

"Alex!" Meg exclaimed.

"Aunt Meg, I just want to know if they're going to talk here or at Madame Seuratti's house."

"We haven't yet decided," Julia said.

"Grand-mere says it's not appropriate for two unmarried people to talk so late at night, especially when they have spent years talking and talking," Alex continued.

I walked into the hall and saw him shrug. He had his back to me and I watched him for a moment as he stood looking more and more like a young man every day, his dark curls of hair down to his collar and his shoulders becoming broader. Though I enjoyed seeing him grow taller, stronger by the year, I looked at him and wondered if Julia were correct. Perhaps we should have a child of our own.

Though in the back of my mind I knew that by fathering a second child I tempted fate, and the last thing I wanted to give to a son, or especially a daughter, was my face. I had no doubt that Julia would love our child no matter what, but the world is a cruel place, one with far less sympathy than our family would offer.

"Madame Seuratti? When may I call you Mother?"

"Soon," Julia said. "Very soon, Alex."

"Good, I don't like calling you Madame Seuratti. I want to call you Mother."

"That's very sweet of you, Alex."

"I know. But anyway, I don't see what's wrong with talking. Lisette and I speak all the time, but Grand-mere says that's different and that someday Father will tell me why, but right now I need to learn Greek. I don't really like Greek. I want to know why it's different—you know, between you and Father—but Grand-mere said that she's certain Father would not allow me to visit lady friends late at night. But Father says Grand-mere says a lot of things, doesn't he, Aunt Meg?"

Meg grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the kitchen. "I think you say a lot of things, young man. Now go sit down and straighten that shirt, Alex!"

"Aww, Aunt Meg," he whined.

When I walked down the stairs I noticed that Julia looked bewildered.

"Exhausting, isn't he?" I asked as I took her by the arm.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I had no idea he knew about our…visits."

"He knows, but he doesn't understand. You have nothing to worry about," I told her, feeling her grip on my arm tighten. "Does Lisette know, do you think?"

Julia opened her eyes and pursed her lips. "I don't know. It's different because she visits others on most nights." She exhaled and smiled. "We don't have to worry about it anymore, do we?"

I shook my head. "After we eat I'll take Alex with me to the jewelers. I think he would enjoy helping me find a ring."

"Lisette will want to go as well if Alex is going."

"I expected as much," I told Julia as we entered the dining room, finding Meg, Charles, Alex and Lisette in their seats with Ruby, Archie, Hermine and Madeline standing behind them. They were all grinning at us, which made my stomach tighten. I resisted the urge to raise my hand and cover my face, as I found it uncomfortable to be gawked at by a crowd, even if they were a familiar crowd.

"What's all this?" I asked gruffly, releasing Julia's arm. My palms felt clammy, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Happy birthday," Madeline said as she stepped around the table and motioned Ruby forward.

"Happy birthday, Father!" Alex said. He turned to Lisette and nudged her in the arm.

"Happy birthday, Monsieur Kire," Lisette said before she stuck her tongue out at Alex and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Monsieur," Ruby said sweetly as she took something from the counter and walked around the table.

My gaze traveled between Madeline's tear-filled eyes and the chocolate cake Ruby displayed in both hands.

"You made a lot of cake," I said obtusely, looking directly at Madeline. I couldn't look at anyone else in the room though I knew they stood smiling back at me. I gestured with my hands, finding words were slowly eluding me. "Small," I said. "You used to make them like this. With honey, not chocolate. Never chocolate."

Madeline attempted in vain to catch her tears. "We needed a bigger cake for a party," she said, her voice strained.

She turned away for a moment and motioned Meg to her side. Meg handed me a small box, which I opened once Madeline nodded.

Inside was the honey cake I had grown accustomed to receiving once a year from Madeline. When I looked up at her again she had covered her mouth with her knuckles, though her eyes were still red and her face blotchy from crying. She wound her arm around me and squeezed me gently before she patted my back.

"I apologize if we startled you," she said.

"You all look quite conspicuous lined up in the kitchen. Like a firing squad."

She shook her head at me, looking somewhat embarrassed by the festivities she had arranged.

"I don't need a party, Madeline," I said quietly. She tilted her face up and I kissed her gently on the cheek, feeling her tears against my lips. "You didn't need to do this."

"I know," she answered, sniffling to hold back her tears. "I know you don't, but I wanted you to have one just once. Just this once, Erik. I always thought that one day..."

I felt her hand nervously running up and down my shoulder as she started to cry again. She was far better than I ever deserved, and as I felt her tears soak my shirt, I thought of all the years I had gone without ever knowing when I was born and how, as a child, I had never expected anything at all.

No one had celebrated me in any way, save Madeline, who had stayed by me through everything and had continued to respect me when I deserved nothing from her at all. In my mind I had always expected the world would rejoice at my passing, but Madeline showed me differently. She never spoke to me the way I remembered my own mother's cruel words.

Madeline was the reason I had survived the days following the opera house fire. She had always been good to me and she had been good to Alex. She made me feel as though the world was mistaken, that I wasn't a monster to be loathed and feared. I don't think I would have survived all those years without her compassion. I looked at her and realized that long before Christine, the first person I loved was Madeline as a friend, confidant, and family. She was the only person who had been real to me, the only thing perfect in my gnarled mind.

The display in the kitchen overwhelmed me. I looked at everyone gathered around the table and nodded once before I turned to Julia, who was beaming.

"Happy birthday," she said before she took her seat at the table beside Lisette and left me with Madeline.

"Lunch will be cold if you don't eat soon," Madeline said. "If you want cake later with just you and Julia I'll have Ruby put it away."

"Put cake away indeed," I said. "You know me better than that."

She laughed and wiped her eyes. "I suppose I do."

I kissed Madeline again and bent down to speak into her ear, "Thank you," I said to her, feeling her grip tighten. "Thank you, Mother."


	79. The Ring

Ghost 80

Lisette and Alex decided to race one another to the jewelry store, which was located across the street from the candy store. Both armed with a five franc note, they paid no mind to me as I strolled along, pushing Charles in his wheelchair.

Charles had hinted at wanting to purchase earrings for Meg as we sat in the parlor after breakfast. He had said that he could possibly sneak from the house with Alex's help since he now had a ramp, but it was clear that he wished to come with us.

Julia was helping Meg with preparations for the new baby and Hermine had offered her assistance as well. Ruby was relieved of her duties for the remainder of the day, and as we left the house I saw Archie sitting in the kitchen as he waited for her. He had said little to me since the events of the previous night, but he looked somewhat calmer, especially when Julia spoke to him.

"A light was on this morning," Archie said when Julia was preoccupied with Lisette. "If he's leaving, he hasn't done it yet."

I merely shrugged in response.

"I will stay here," he said as he wrung his hands. "If you don't want them left alone."

I continued to think of what Archie had said as the jewelry store came into sight. It didn't surprise me that Max hadn't yet left Julia's home. Due to the extent of his injuries, I expected he would need the better part of the morning to recuperate, if not a portion of the afternoon as well.

He would, however, be a fool to cause a commotion in broad daylight. I wasn't certain what Archie would do if he were confronted by Max, and after last night I would wager that Max would not travel to my home without a friend. Even though I agreed to have Archie stay it gave me no comfort.

Apparently it did nothing to ease Charles' nerves either.

"We shouldn't be gone long," he said, his hands wrapped around the armrests as his chair bumbled over the cobblestones.

"No, I shouldn't expect so," I replied, squinting in the bright sunlight. Even with a hat on it was difficult for me to keep my eyes fully open. So many years living in darkness had taken a toll, I suppose.

"The women will worry if you aren't home soon," Charles said under his breath.

His words struck me as odd. I stared at the back of his head, my brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Meg, Mother Giry," he said, his voice so low I could barely hear him. "It's safer for them when you're there, especially after last night. Perhaps it would be best if you return home and leave me with Alexandre. My wife…in her condition…she needs someone with her."

He kept his head lowered as we continued on in silence.

"When she was younger," I said, slowing our pace as a cab passed. "She was quite irresponsible. She was constantly losing her ballet slippers, skirts, anything she possessed would somehow disappear."

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "I do believe she has mentioned that before, Monsieur."

"There was one time she found a mouse in her ballet frock," I said. "She shrieked so loudly that I believe the dead could hear her."

Charles grunted. "Yes, she's quite fond of the cat. Hasn't seen a mouse in weeks."

"Yes, but that wasn't quite my point."

"I know," he said.

I said nothing more as Lisette and Alex ran up, both of them red-faced and out of breath.

"She's there! She's there!" Alex yelled despite me standing no more than a few feet away.

"Who is where? And please quit shouting!"

"Roberta!" Alex said. "She said she has the perfect ring for Madame Seuratti."

He was beaming with pride with his news, though I remained skeptical. Perfect, I thought cynically, probably meant it cost twice as much as every other ring in the store.

"The perfect ring," I sighed. "Why is it perfect?"

Lisette looked sharply at Alex and he grinned at her.

"I can't _tell_ you, Father. You must look!"

"Fine, fine, both of you keep an eye on it," I said, seeing as they were far too excited to walk patiently with us.

The two of them ran toward the jewelers, arms linked as they skipped along, dodging people who appeared highly annoyed by their antics.

"Charles," I said.

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"I will not say this again, so listen closely. You do fine by Meg and always have, regardless of your mobility. She's happy, in good health and safe because of you, and I could not imagine her with another man. But if you ever did differently by my sister you would be awfully sorry. Is that understood, Monsieur?"

"It is."

"Good. Find her a necklace to match the earrings."

He didn't say another word as we approached the store and Alex held the door for us. I lowered the brim of my hat over my eyes as the bell on the door jingled and I pushed Charles through the threshold.

The jeweler was shouting something in German when we entered. A man in the back, presumably her husband, grumbled something in reply.

"Madame Roberta! This is Father," Alex shouted.

"Alex, hush, you're indoors," I said through my teeth. He was starting to give me a headache with all his yelling.

The woman whirled around, skirts twirling around her. She smiled brightly and touched her hair before she swept across the room like a dancer.

"How do you do, Monsieur Kire?" Madame Roberta said, offering her dainty hand with a curtsy and a bat of her eyelashes. "I have heard so much about you—all good, naturally."

"My son tells me you have the perfect engagement ring for my fiancé," I replied, ignoring her flattery.

She clasped her hands together and grinned. "Ah, yes, for you, Monsieur, I have the perfect ring."

Charles and I exchanged skeptical glances, but I nodded nonetheless while Alex stood nearby looking ready to explode.

Roberta disappeared into the back and Alex sighed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Isn't she wonderful?" he said dreamily.

I rolled my eyes. First Ruby, now the jeweler had caught Alex's eye. "Not yet," I muttered, hearing Roberta humming as she rummaged around in the back.

"One more moment, Monsieur Kire! Would you like a cookie? There's a table behind you with treats."

"Oh, yes, Father! You love cookies!" Alex said as he danced around me. He doubled back, grabbed Lisette by the arm, and tugged her toward the silver plate.

"Alex, you're in public," Charles said calmly as he scoured one of the jewelry displays. "It is imperative that you behave like a gentleman."

"Aww, Uncle Charles," Alex groaned.

Lisette skipped back beside me and clasped her hands behind her back. "It's perfect," she whispered as she glanced up at me.

"Why is it perfect, Mademoiselle Lisette?" I asked.

Lisette shot a look toward Alex, but he was too preoccupied with cookies to bother overhearing her. Still, she tugged on my sleeve and I bent down so that we were eye to eye. "Because Mother picked it out and had Madame Roberta put it in the back," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with delight. She pursed her lips. "Shh, I'm not supposed to tell you. Mother said you would figure it out on your own."

"Our secret then," I assured her, attempting the most serious expression of my life.

She offered her hand and we shook before her grin widened, her nose scrunching up. "I knew I could trust you, Monsieur Kire," she said. Her head tilted to the side. "Or shall I call you Father now?"

My heart stopped as I gazed down at her. Her question made me realize how close I truly was to having a complete family. "Whatever you decide, Mademoiselle," I said.

She smiled before she skittered off to join Alex.

"Here we go, Monsieur Kire," Madame Roberta said as she handed me a small red box with a white velvet ribbon. "It's a lovely ring. Go ahead, take a look inside. It's breathtaking, just like your fiancé."

Lisette and Alex were standing on the tips of their toes, their eyes glued to the box. I glanced at them and at Charles, who was sitting back in his chair with a slight smile on his face.

I lifted the lid and lowered my hand to give both Lisette and Alex a better look.

"Oooh," Alex whispered. "It's so small."

Lisette elbowed him. "It is not! It's a diamond, and it's the perfect size."

Alex shrugged. "It's only coal," he muttered. "Who wants to wear a piece of coal on their hand?"

Such a romantic, I thought dryly.

"Women do," Lisette huffed. She made a face before she noticed me watching them. Like the perfect little lady, she smiled and pretended she had not engaged in an argument.

"Well, Monsieur Kire, what do you think?" Roberta asked as she leaned on the counter.

"It will do," I said gruffly. Madeline had warned me that if I acted too impressed she would "slit my throat" during the sale.

Roberta raised an eyebrow. "May I wrap it for you?"

I glanced at Lisette and Alex who were both holding their breath, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Yes," I said. "With a black satin ribbon."


	80. Anthony

Ghost80

Lisette offered Charles her feminine knowledge in picking out Meg's earrings, which seemed to delight her. She stood daintily on the tips of her toes to examine a pair of pearl earrings, eyes squinted as she scrutinized a pair and shook her head. With a shrug, Charles instructed Roberta to return them to the case and present something new.

While Lisette and Charles chatted, Alexandre pulled me aside and gave me a stern look.

"Yes?" I asked when he didn't say anything immediately.

He motioned for me to bend over before whispering in my ear, "I wanted to ask you something."

"I realize that, Alex. What would you like to ask?"

He sighed, shifting his weight. "May I buy Lisette something?"

"Such as?"

Alex looked away and shrugged. "I don't know. You're buying Madame Seuratti something…I just thought I should buy Lisette something, too."

He blushed when he spoke, his eyes suddenly riveted to the floor.

"Do you want her to see?"

"No!" he whispered loudly, alarm in his eyes when he looked at me again. He shook his head furiously. "That would ruin it!"

I grabbed him by the shoulder and nodded. "Come back tomorrow and buy what you like."

He frowned. "I don't have any money."

Straightening to my full height again, I smiled. "Check your pocket."

Roberta returned with more earring and necklace sets, and after several minutes Lisette gave Charles her approval on a pair of diamond earrings. Once the packages were wrapped Roberta gave Alex a tin of cookies and a kiss on the forehead, then apologized to me again for not having any black ribbon.

"No one has ever asked for black ribbon," she said. "But I will certainly keep some in stock just for you, Monsieur Kire."

I could feel the knife Madeline had mentioned sliding across my throat as this woman voiced her expectation to see us again, most likely hoping we would make substantial purchases in the future.

She curtsied and bid us farewell. "Tell Madame Seuratti hello for me, and tell her to come back when she is Madame _Kire_."

Charles, who was in high spirits after finding the perfect gift for his wife, shook his head as we left. He wheeled himself out of the store, telling me over his shoulder that he wanted to travel to the corner alone for practice, as once the baby was born he and Meg wanted to enjoy walks together and she couldn't push him if they had their child in a baby carriage.

"Madame Roberta certainly knows how to sell, wouldn't you say, Monsieur?"

"Indeed." I lowered my hat further over my eyes, finding the streets were busier than they had been when we first entered the jeweler's.

"Reasonable, though," Charles commented.

I had no idea whether or not her prices were reasonable, but I found I enjoyed Charles' company immensely. I agreed with his comment as I walked slowly beside him and he looked up at me and smiled.

"It's been an honor to tutor in your home, Monsieur. I mean that sincerely," he said.

"You'll have Lisette as student now as well," I replied, smirking as I added, "May God have mercy on your soul."

"Father, may Lisette and I walk across the street?" Alex asked as we approached the corner.

"As long as you do it swiftly and don't eat anything that will spoil your supper," I replied. In the back of my mind I could hear Madeline badgering me about allowing him treats before dinner, but he and Lisette had done well and I saw no reason to deny them. This was the first time I had been away from the house during the day with Alex, I realized. It was a special day.

It was something that should have happened long ago, I thought to myself as I crossed the street.

Alex and Lisette were gone before I could finish my answer, the two of them laughing as they raced across the street and disappearing into the sweet shop. As I watched them go I failed to pay heed to Charles, who had not moved.

When I turned to question him I saw him staring past me, his usually olive complexion gone white. I thought perhaps he had exerted himself to the point of sickness, but before I could question him I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"A word, Monsieur Kire, if you would be so kind."

My mirth completely drained from my body as I turned to face Max Falchetti's bruised face. I met his icy stare for a moment before I glanced across the street, grateful to find that Alex and Lisette were nowhere in sight. If anything should happen I didn't want Alex to witness it. He and Lisette had seen far more than was necessary, and I didn't want them to know the fear and horrors I had known as a child.

Another man sidled up alongside Max, his top hat tipped at an angle. He was years younger than Max and myself, broad-shouldered and handsome, with light green eyes and sandy hair. He looked more Sicilian than Italian, I thought.

"Concerning?" I asked Max.

Max's cold expression didn't change. In the light of day I saw how badly Archie had beaten him, though apparently Max had a thick enough skull and still refused to leave. His gall incensed me.

"You're not an ignorant man," he said, keeping his voice even. He licked his split lip and flexed his hands.

He was calm—far too calm for my liking, and I instantly thought of Julia. My hands turned into tight fists, rage engulfing me. If he had done anything to her I would kill him in broad daylight on the streets of Paris.

"Where is she?"

Max lifted his chin. "In your home, I presume. That is where she spent the night, is it not? Ruining her reputation each moment she spends with you. Soon no one in Paris will speak to her."

"What do you want?"

Max glanced at the younger man beside him and then back at me. "Ideally? For my sister to come to her senses and listen to reason," he replied.

His companion shot him a warning look, which perplexed me. "Put your temper aside, Max. Remember why we are here," the nameless man said under his breath as he stared me in the eye.

With a sigh Max scanned the street and stepped closer, keeping his voice low so that only I would hear him speak.

"Marriage or not, I will never call you my brother. You are nothing to me, do you understand?"

"The feeling is mutual. Return home," I said through my teeth.

I turned to Charles who, despite his vulnerability, stayed at my side, eyeing Max's friend. With a nod I took hold of Charles' wheelchair and prepared to cross the street, having not the patience nor the time to entertain Max's insults.

The other man darted in front of us, removing his hat as he blocked our path. "Monsieur, a moment, if you would be so kind."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Anthony Seuratti," he answered.

I froze, thinking his visage was nothing like Louis Seuratti's fleshy, beady-eyed face. Anthony appeared calm, but not in the cocky way Max looked. Hesitating, he offered his hand.

"Louis' brother?"

"Cousin," he corrected. "But if you please, Monsieur, I would rather talk to you about his widow."

"How does she concern you?"

He looked away for a moment. "My father wanted her to be my wife, Monsieur."

My mind reeled back to Julia's words the previous night. Before she spoke to Max she told me about her family. She had mentioned Louis' sister wanting her to marry her cousin, who was a widower.

"The baker?" I asked.

His lips grew taut but he nodded. He was making every attempt not to appear repulsed, but he couldn't stop himself from grimacing as he stared at my face. "Yes, Monsieur, I am a baker."

Anthony offered his hand, which I stared at briefly before training my gaze across the street.

"Your father's concerns are not mine," I said as I brushed past him. "My only concern is Julia."

"Julia is my concern as well," Anthony replied.

I glared at him. "The concern your family shows for one another is less than admirable, Monsieur Seuratti. Good day to you, Monsieur."

I saw Alex and Lisette through the window as they browsed the shop and hoped they would be a moment longer.

"Please, wait," Anthony begged as he followed Charles and me across the street.

"You will not keep her away from us," Max yelled.

"Max, please, I will handle this," Anthony warned.

"It will not be another ten years before I see my own sister again," Max shouted before he threw his hands in the air and stormed away, muttering curses as he stalked off.

He was little more than a proud cock strutting around, making a show of nothing. I ignored him and went on my way with Anthony still following behind.

"I have no interest in having Julia Seuratti as a wife," Anthony said as he caught up to us.

"For God's sake, have you no decency?" Charles asked, glaring at Anthony. "Will you not leave this man and his fiancée alone?"

"Monsieur, that's just it," Anthony said, having the audacity to lay his hand on my arm.

I whirled around, my tolerance at an end. He must have known I would strike him because he stepped back and raised his hands, palms facing out.

"Our family would like to see her," Anthony said, his eyes darting back and forth from me to Charles.

"You had years to see her. What an inopportune time you've chosen, Monsieur Seuratti."

He nodded. "I realize how it must seem, Monsieur, and you're correct in being concerned. But please, Monsieur, I would rather not continue this conversation on a street corner. May we meet at another time?"

"No."

He sighed. "Then you intend to keep her under lock and key as her first husband did?" He waited for me to turn and face him before he continued. "I respected my cousin as a man of business and family member, but little else. I don't want my cousin to become merely a name again and neither does her brother."

Max was halfway down the street by this time. I saw him turn and enter a building before I faced Anthony again.

"And what does Max want?" I asked. "Control? A wedding he deems appropriate?"

Anthony looked me directly in the eye. "He's a bull-headed man, yes. He's not a good man, and he'd be the first to tell you that he's a lowly bastard far beyond forgiveness. But he does care for his sister."

"Does he?" I challenged.

"He says he does and I choose to believe that he is sincere."

"You haven't yet told me what he wants, Monsieur Seuratti."

"He wants to salvage his relationship with Julia."

I started to shake my head but Anthony continued speaking.

"I have no doubt that she will marry you, Monsieur. I've seen her in my bakery for years and she never says much, but she speaks quite highly of you. She has encouraged me and my father to see your work performed live."

He was lying as Julia had never mentioned any of this to me.

"I've only seen _Pearl of Summer _performed, but despite the reviews I rather enjoyed it. It's different—very…intriguing. More so than reviewers could comprehend, I think. If it isn't Carmen no one wants to see it. I believe Luc Testan said that once."

Audiences enjoyed it but Anthony was correct. My reviews were terrible, which was just as I had expected. Out of all my works that one remained Julia's favorite opera. Perhaps Anthony was telling the truth after all.

"I don't want your flattery. I want to know what you want."

"By all accounts my cousin seems happy, Monsieur, but before you marry her we would like to see her."

"Who?"

"Max, my father and myself."

"The three of you want to see her alone?"

Anthony shook his head. "No deception, Monsieur. Please allow me another time we may speak," he said, handing me his card. "I would like to do so in the next three days. Max will be staying with me until he fully recovers. If Julia wishes to return to her home it will be empty. Good day, Monsieur."

With that he walked away just as I heard Alex and Lisette laughing in the street.


	81. Earthworms

E/N There are many other stories and many other versions of me that you could be reading, so thank you for continuing to come back to this story. Gabrina really does appreciate it...and I do admit that I do too. Obviously I've had a bit too much egg nog. Ignore my ramblings! E.K.

Ghost81 "Earthworms"

Madeline was in her sewing room when I walked through the backdoor with Charles.

"Monsieur Kire, Monsieur Lowry?" she called, the sound of her cane accompanying her voice.

Bessie raced into the kitchen, her feet moving not nearly fast enough for her liking. I heard her run into the wall before she finally bounded into the kitchen, her tail wagging furiously.

"Where is everyone?" Charles asked.

"It is far too quiet, isn't it?" I commented.

Charles nodded. "Monsieur, I can almost hear myself think. It's been years since that has happened."

I glanced at Madeline, who was standing proudly in the doorway, obviously approving our exchange.

"The women went out dress shopping. Where are the children?"

"Alex caught a toad on the way home," I replied. "He wanted to torment Lisette with it. He's in the back building a toad mansion."

Madeline held her hand to her heart. "How appalling! You should have made him put it down—or better yet—not let him touch it at all."

"Not the toad's fault," Charles said under his breath. He was a fine fellow, wittier than I ever imagined.

I shrugged. "Lisette is not quite a woman of ribbons and bows."

Madeline stared at me as though my words were terribly insulting. "Of course she is. She's Julia's daughter. I've never seen a more demure child."

Charles coughed to hide his amusement as he looked away from me. He was truly a devious man gleefully partaking in childish antics. I had never seen him in such a light. I could only imagine what sort of man he had been when he was able to walk.

"What is so funny?" Madeline asked. Her gaze hardened, becoming more motherly and disapproving of both of us.

"She swallowed an earthworm."

Madeline blanched at my words. For a moment I thought she would fall to the ground, but instead she covered her mouth and turned away. It was just as dramatic as fainting, possibly more so as she waved her free hand about and groaned. It was a worm, not a poisonous snake.

"How could you allow her to do such a thing?"

"Honestly, Madeline, it's not as though I'm asked to restrain children from swallowing worms on a daily basis." I shrugged again. "She'll be fine."

Madeline shook her head. "God help me if you don't have a ring to put on her mother's finger."

I didn't quite understand Madeline's reasoning, but I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she hoped there was a ring in my pocket and a wedding to be announced. She could finally stop praying for my soul nightly, bloodying her knees over my sins as she often claimed.

"Indeed," I said, patting my coat pocket.

Without asking, she grabbed my arm and fished into my pocket. She muttered something under her breath about us finally coming to our senses before peering into the box.

"Does it meet your approval?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"It's beautiful," Madeline said as she tucked it back into my pocket. She pinched the back of my hand and gave me another stern look. "You should have asked her years ago."

I didn't reply. I knew that Julia would have denied me if I had asked her to be my wife when we first began seeing one another. Our relationship was not meant to end in marriage. After all these years I finally saw that the purpose I thought it served didn't truly exist. There was no satisfaction in keeping her as my mistress. It had been my last resort to love her without deeper consequences.

"I'll be in the study," I said.

For the remainder of the day I wondered if I could trust Anthony Seuratti. The odds were stacked against him whether he was a Falchetti or a Seuratti, and no matter how sincere his smile or how bright his eyes I saw a snake lying in wait.

His timing was no good, but yet I wondered why, if he truly wanted to take Julia, did he leave without a fight? Charles, no matter how good his intentions, was confined to a wheelchair, and Max, though bruised, was far too ignorant to pass up a fight. Anthony Seuratti had stopped Max from what I thought for certain would be fisticuffs. None of it made sense.

By the time I heard Madeline holler for Alex and Lisette to wash up for dinner my mind was in knots and I wished Julia hadn't gone to the dress shop with Meg and Hermine. I wanted to know what her feelings were toward Monsieur Seuratti, as I knew she saw him over the years.

Archie Leach returned with Ruby, who flew into the kitchen to help Madeline while Archie told her that he would return in a moment. She muttered her greeting to me before I heard her shoes tapping down the hall.

"Madame! Madame! I apologize. I didn't realize the hour!" Ruby cried.

"You're just in time," Madeline said calmly. She had been humming to herself since I showed her that there was indeed a ring for Julia. "Did he ask you?"

"Not yet," Ruby sighed.

"He will," Madeline replied. "And then we will have two weddings and a new baby. A blessed house if there ever was one—and possibly two more babies. Three if there were twins."

"Madame, you are getting ahead of yourself. If he asks me to be his wife—"

"Hush. Allow me my happiness," Madeline replied, and together they went about humming and giggling like school girls in the kitchen.

Archie returned and let himself into the parlor. He scared the hell out of me as he strolled in, knocking loudly to announce himself when the door was fully open.

"I won't stay for dinner, Monsieur, but I wanted to speak with you," he said as he seated himself.

When he sat I noticed the concern in his eyes and closed the book I had been reading. Tennyson could wait.

"I wish to apologize to you, Monsieur, for involving you in the…situation…last night."

I nodded, sitting back in my chair.

Archie exhaled through his mouth. "I paid Monsieur Luc Testan a visit this afternoon," he said in English.

My jaw tensed.

"I didn't mention your name, Monsieur, though quite obviously it was necessary to explain that Max is indeed alive. He seemed rather disappointed, but he didn't elaborate on his feelings. He gave me back my violin and said he would be purchasing his instruments from someone else." He shrugged then. "His sister Muriel explained that he has good days and bad—and that this was one of the worst she's seen. I only stayed for a moment while Ruby visited with Muriel and then we left."

I studied him while he stared at his hands.

"I thought you should be informed," Archie mumbled. "Should he contact you."

"Thank you," I replied. "There is something I wanted to ask before you leave."

He nodded readily, shifting to the edge of his seat.

"Anthony Seuratti," I said, watching his eyes widen. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, Monsieur. I worked with him briefly. He's the intelligent one in the family."

"How so?"

Archie shrugged. "Doesn't…how shall I say it? Meddle? I haven't seen him in some time, but I do know that he left working with his brothers and cousins in favor of his own business. He removed himself from the family once his wife died."

"Yes, I remember Julia said he was a widower. That's a shame," I said, delicately prying for additional information. For the most part it seemed as though Archie were indifferent to Anthony.

Archie hesitated. "It is, Monsieur. If you knew Anthony Seuratti I think you would like him."

I sat back and folded my hands. "He approached me today. He and Max."

Archie's lips parted. "Max is still in Paris?"

"He will be staying with Anthony."

Archie shook his head. "They were together? You saw them together?"

I nodded, my interest in his reaction piqued. "You find this strange?"

"Well, yes, Monsieur. Julie dear and Anthony remained friendly over the years from what I remember, but they never referred to one another as family—mostly because of Louis."

"Anthony and Louis were cousins, were they not?"

"They were, but they hadn't been close since they were very small children. When they worked together in the warehouse Anthony's father—Henri—had to keep them separated at all times because they once got into a fistfight. I don't recall why, but neither of them was willing to stop. Louis pulled out a switchblade and then…then Anthony's younger brother did the same and it came to an end. Both of them were hotheaded, though as I remember, Anthony was quite good-natured on his own. He just didn't like Louis."

I grunted, mulling over Archie's words. "He was not friends with Louis but he's evidently close to Max."

"I haven't the slightest idea," Archie said as he placed his hands on the armrest. "May I ask what Anthony said to you?"

"He wants to see Julia. He, Max and Henri want to see her before we are married."

Archie's brow furrowed. "What did Julie dear say?"

"She doesn't know yet. I haven't seen her since I returned home."

Ruby tapped on the door and asked if we wanted anything to drink. Archie rose from his seat and I did the same, telling Ruby that I was fine for the moment.

I led Archie to the front door and asked him if he wished to stay, but he said he was meeting for business within the hour.

"From what I know of him, Anthony Seuratti is perhaps the only man in that family with sense," he said before he left.

I was beginning to question my own sense.


	82. Life Begins

For those of you who pre-read there are a few changes. Happy New Year to everyone!

Ghost 82

Once Archie left I decided to sit in the library for a while.

Ruby left the house again on an errand for some fresh bread and spices, which meant that dinner would be delayed. I was reading an essay that one of Charles' friends had delivered to the house for Charles' opinion. I found _The Decay of Lying_ to be quite entertaining, and I remember Charles mentioning the man was a playwright. From what Charles had said I believed the young man was wasting his time. No one would ever purchase a play based on Biblical figures. _Salome_ was little more than wasted ink and paper.

I was so exhausted that I dozed once I had finished reading the essay. A knock at the library door woke me with a start and I shot upright nearly dropping the bound manuscript.

Meg walked into the study to tell me that dinner would be late. Setting a plate of cookies before me, she turned up the lamps and started to leave, asking over her shoulder if I required a blanket while I napped.

"I was only resting my eyes," I corrected. The strong smell of sugar piqued my curiosity. "What's this?"

"They're filled with raspberry jelly. It's a snack," she answered. "From Mother, since Ruby said dinner would most likely be in an hour."

My brow furrowed as I stared at the cookies then looked at Meg once more. "For whom?"

She stood in the doorway, her face full and cheeks rosy. For the first time she looked more like a mother-to-be than Madeline's daughter.

"For you, of course. Mother said that Alex and Lisette shouldn't have any because they won't eat dinner. But because we're having your favorite, Cornish hens with maple syrup and mustard, and because Mother is in a simply wonderful mood, she said you could have something extra."

I frowned. Meg frowned as well.

"That's Alex's favorite meal. He likes having his own individual bird."

"Oh." Her shoulders slumped.

I preferred _poulet a la Normande, _poached chicken with creamy mushroom sauce, leeks and onions, or chicken with sour cherries, but Madeline preferred simpler recipes.

"Well, perhaps if I ask Ruby…"

"No, no, leave the girl alone," I said as I stood. I covered my mouth as I yawned. "Where is Julia?"

"She returned home. Archie changed the lock on the front and back doors for her."

I nodded. He hadn't mentioned anything about it to me, but I was glad Max didn't have entry into her house. "Is she with Lisette?"

"Lisette is in the kitchen helping Ruby, which is where I should be."

"What about Alex?"

"He took a bath and now he's with Charles, working on something for after dinner."

"Something for after dinner?"

Meg shrugged. "They're being awfully quiet about whatever it is. Do you need anything?"

"No. I will be at Julia's home until dinner is prepared."

Meg stared at me a moment. She started to speak but stopped herself. "When you have visited a while…that is to say…when you have retrieved Julia, I'm sure dinner will be ready."

She blushed deeply and I cocked my head to the side, studying her face. Meg assumed I was paying Julia a _visit_ as I had done in the past, but she wouldn't dare say another word. Clearing her throat, she waddled out, nervously humming to herself.

The poor girl didn't realize she had inadvertently given me ideas.

With the women in the kitchen and Alex and Charles studying, I took a black ribbon from Madeline's sewing box and tied it around the jewelry box. I paused.

Black no longer seemed fitting for an engagement ring. Brow furrowed, I rummaged through her supplies until I found a deep red ribbon, one which matched my brocade waistcoat.

From where I sat I could clearly hear Alex telling Charles about his magnificent frog palace in the back garden.

"Perhaps you would care to study architecture," Charles suggested.

Alex made a noise to voice his skepticism. "I would rather learn to build things."

"Do you know what architecture is, Alex?"

"Planting seeds," he said, making it sound like the most dreadful task possible.

Charles laughed. "That is agriculture, Alex. Architecture is building design. It's quite fascinating."

After I listened to Charles and Alex speaking for a moment, I grabbed my coat and hat and walked out the front door. Both Bessie and Aria had followed me to the door, Bessie assuming that we were going for a walk and Aria following her surrogate mother.

"Later," I promised Bessie before I shut the door and walked around to the side of the house.

I walked through my gate into Julia's yard and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I tried again and heard her calling that she would be a moment.

With her hair damp and tied back, she opened the door and smiled at me. There was something far too inviting about seeing Julia straight from her bath that made her completely irresistible. My intention of asking her about her cousin immediately disappeared.

"Is dinner ready?" she asked.

I shook my head. I leaned against the doorway as I looked her up and down.

"Oh, good. I had hoped to help Ruby and Madeline, but I needed a bath first. I know Meg is very close to…" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is it?"

I let myself into her home and wrapped my arms around her, giving her a devilish smile as I squeezed her tight.

She chuckled and shook her head at me, knowing immediately what my intentions had been when I came calling at her door.

With her hands against my cheeks she kissed me. "Erik, you know that we can't. Dinner first, then--"

"Dinner will be late," I said before I kissed her. "At least an hour."

"Oh? And who said that?" she asked skeptically.

"Meg. Ruby was out buying spices and bread."

"Erik." Julia sighed and shook her head once more. She cracked a smile and stared into my eyes, her hands gripping my arms. As demur as she appeared I knew she appreciated my attempts to persuade her into her bedroom. "You're a wicked, wicked man with very vile thoughts. It amazes me that you ever compose when it seems your mind is always elsewhere."

I nodded as I led her upstairs and paused in the hall, kissing her deeply and pinning her between my body and the landing wall.

"Have you no shame?" she teased as her fingers worked to loosen my cravat.

"None at all," I answered as I swept her into my arms and kissed her again.

She insisted that I put her down, so I placed her on the edge of the bed before sitting beside her. Julia kept her hands on my collarbone and looked into my eyes. She appeared peaceful, and as I looked at her I felt the same. She was not merely the parts to me that I thought were missing. Julia was everything inside of me that had withered, everything that needed to be rekindled and reborn.

"You make me happier than I thought possible," I said as I ran my finger along a wet tendril of her long hair. "Julia."

She gave me a closed-lipped smile and reached for me, but I took her hand in mine and held it, bringing it to my lips.

Her lips parted when she saw me move from the bed and lower to my knees, which made me smile since she knew I possessed her engagement ring.

"Be my wife," I said as I presented the box tied with the red ribbon to her.

Her eyes sparkled as I opened the box lid and plucked the ring from the velvet case.

"You're trembling," Julia said with a smile.

"I'm nervous as all hell," I said, doing everything to keep from dropping her ring.

She kissed me before I slid it onto her finger. "Why?"

I shook my head. "Because it's real now, Julia. And I…I never thought I would have anything like this…anyone like you, ever."

"Me neither," she replied.

After all the years I had known her she still left me breathless. I placed the ring on her finger and held her hand. Three diamonds, three perfect, clear diamonds—one blue and two white, set in a silver band—made Julia my fiancée.

"I will be your wife," she whispered as she took hold of my hand and smiled.

She kissed my fingertips, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. Before I had a moment to respond, her arms were around my neck, her lips pressed to mine.

She smelled like lavender and her skin felt like warm silk as I touched her neck and face. Removing the pins from her hair, I raked my hands through her damp locks as she unbuttoned my shirt and rested her head against my chest.

Our lovemaking was slow and sensual. While I lay on my back she kissed my neck, my lips and my eyelids. In silence she asked for permission to kiss my right cheek, and as I closed my eyes I gave myself to her, wanting her to accept me—finally prepared to trust her to hold and touch what had always marked me as a monster.

She kissed my forehead, my nose, and my temples when we were coupled and I felt her love for me and mine for her, deeper than I had ever felt any emotion.

Her head rested over my heart and my arms wrapped around her long after we were both satisfied. I closed my eyes and kept her close to me, kissing the top of her head.

"There is a chance now," Julia said as she lifted her head and placed her hand on my cheek.

"I know," I replied as I stroked her cheek. As careful as we had always been, I no longer wanted to be careful.

"We should marry soon," she murmured, running her fingers through my chest hair.

"We will," I promised her. "Tonight if you wish. Tomorrow, Monday…whenever you decide."

"One week," Julia said, her smile widening. "That would be ideal."

"One week," I agreed.


	83. No Ghost, No Shadow

This is the final chapter for A Ghost's Shadow. Many thanks to all of you who stayed to read, speculate, find yourself irritated and sympathize with everyone in the story.

This is the first story of mine to reach 1000 reviews, so to that I say thank you! Anyone who reviewed just once or every chapter—thanks! And to all of you pre-readers in Gabrinaland: Thanks for your help and for always making me laugh (Kathy, Jen, Mel…). And a giant thank you to Teresa for always beta reading, Meanie for her occasional and "awesome" help, and Lizzy and Janine for being ready on short notice to rescue me. You've all been a giant help. You have no idea how much I appreciate you not letting me make wrong turns.

There will be another Erik Kire story starting shortly for Julia and Erik's wedding. Please check in about a week. The tentative title is "One Week". What could happen in a week, right?

Ghost 83

Madeline said more with a look than she ever did with words.

Judging by her expression the moment I walked through the back door, she knew precisely what had taken place. However, I knew that since we were gathered around the dinner table she would stifle her disappointment. Nothing would ever slip past her, even if Julia and I had hoped that by arriving separately nothing would seem out of the ordinary.

Foolish, perhaps, but Julia insisted that I return first and she would wait in my back garden long enough for "no one to suspect we have been friendly". Friendly, indeed.

"Where is Madame Seuratti?" Alex asked once I seated myself.

"Fixing her hair," I answered.

Since we couldn't start dinner until Julia arrived, Alex let out a sigh to show us he was on the verge of death. He slumped low in his chair with his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Alex, I had no idea Charles was teaching you drama," I snapped. "Sit up and quit putting on such a terrible show."

He sat up at once, earning a disapproving look from Lisette.

For a young lady who swallowed worms, Lisette was quite the little doll at the dinner table. Meg—whom, I think always wanted a daughter of her own—had put Lisette's hair up in ribbons. Her dark locks were curled and bobbing each time she moved. Meg simply couldn't stop herself from telling Lisette what a beauty she was, and I could tell by Alex's scrunched nose that he found Meg's gushing obnoxious.

"Where is Ruby?" I asked just as Julia walked through the back door.

"She is having supper with Archie once we're finished here," Meg answered.

Her business was her own, but over the weeks since she began working in my house I had grown accustomed to having her at my table. No employer would ever dine with their servants. It was unheard of throughout Europe—as well as the rest of the world. Though I supposed our home was hardly considered conventional, none inside would think twice at having Ruby join us—her Irish accent and all.

"They are having a very important conversation," Madeline added.

Recalling the conversation I heard earlier in the day between Madeline and Ruby, I assumed Madeline was referring to an impending engagement.

Hearing her name, Ruby walked into the dining room. Her blonde hair was tied back, and beneath her apron she appeared to be wearing a dress slightly fancier than was appropriate for cooking.

"May I bring you something, Monsieur Kire? A drink perhaps?"

I excused Ruby from her duties and she said she would bring dinner out and be on her way after the dishes were clean. She seemed taken aback when I told her the dishes could wait.

Julia sat beside me and apologized to Madeline for being tardy.

"You may be as tardy as you like for dinner," Madeline replied. "Once you are married."

Julia blushed and bowed her head, but before Alex could ask any questions Meg noticed the ring on Julia's finger.

"They're engaged!" Meg clapped. She grasped Charles' hand and kissed him on the cheek. "What a perfect year!"

"How wonderful, Mother," Lisette said from across the table.

Not to be outdone, Alex rose from his seat and walked around the table to shake my hand. "Fine job, Father," he said quite sternly. "Congratulations."

He made me smile as I shook his hand and patted him on the back. "Thank you, Alex."

"Uncle Charles told me to say that," he admitted as he hugged my neck tightly. "But congratulations anyway, Father. Grand-mere says it's about time."

"Alex!" Madeline scolded. She placed her hand against her forehead. "Worse than a parrot, I swear, child."

Throughout dinner Meg asked Julia a hundred questions concerning her ring. I knew little about jewelry, but I knew it was definitely silver, which surprised me.

"Why silver?" Meg asked.

"It belonged to my Grandmother Testan on my mother's side," Julia answered. "She sold the stones in it long ago, but when I brought it to the jeweler's, Roberta said she had the perfect diamonds."

"But they're so small," Alex interjected.

Lisette glared at him. "They're not small! They're perfect!" she corrected. "What did you expect? Boulders?"

Julia gave Lisette a cross glance which silenced her into a much more ladylike smile.

"When is the wedding?" Madeline inquired.

"One week," I answered.

"Where will you be married?" Charles asked.

We hadn't yet discussed the details privately, but I made no further comments as Meg, Lisette, Julia and even Madeline discussed the wedding details. With all of them smiling and laughing throughout dinner, Charles, Alex and I talked amongst ourselves about the newspaper. The two bloodhounds used to track Jack the Ripper in Whitechapel made their way to New York the previous week, which made the Paris papers.

"They're valued at a thousand United States dollars," Charles said.

"How much is that?" Alex asked.

"Quite a bit," I answered.

"For two dogs that couldn't find the fiend?" Alex asked. He shook his head in disgust and I smiled at his words.

"An American man purchased the dogs," I explained. "That's why it made news. They're quite expensive animals."

Alex shrugged. "I like Bessie better."

"So do I," I told him.

We finished dessert, and as Charles and I discussed politics I noticed Alex becoming increasingly animated. He was becoming far too distracting, so I asked him what was wrong. He looked at Charles.

"May I?" he asked.

Charles nodded. "Stand up. It will help you project your voice better."

"What is he doing?" I asked Charles, but Charles didn't answer. He merely smiled and folded his hands as we watched Alex pull a sheet of paper from his pocket.

"The most fascinating man I know," he said. "By Alexandre Jean Kire."

Julia clutched my hand, grinning in anticipation.

"My father is the most fascinating man I know," Alex started. "I didn't choose him solely based on him being my father, however I am very proud to be the son of Erik M—that stands for Matthew—Kire."

Meg and Julia both giggled, which made Alex grin. He enjoyed attention so much that I wondered if he would one day perform on a stage. He certainly had that background.

"My father is fascinating because of many reasons. He's a composer, which means he writes music. Whenever I have asked how long he has written music he says it has been—quote—'A very long time.' Grand-mere says that Father has written music for—quote 'As long as I have known him'. Aunt Meg said she didn't know." Alex looked at me and Julia and grinned. "Charles said I couldn't include what Meg said after that."

"Alexandre!" Meg and Madeline shouted, which is precisely what he wanted to hear.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "My father is also fascinating because he knows more than anyone else in the world. For a long time I thought Uncle Charles was the most intelligent human being ever, but Uncle Charles said that—quote—'I am still learning.' Unquote. Even though Father is old…um…older…than Uncle Charles, he is still learning too. One day I hope to know as much as my father, but for right now I take great pride in learning from the most fascinating man I know."

He looked up at me then, an enigmatic smile on his face. "This doesn't make him fascinating, I know, but Uncle Charles said I could say these even though he told me it's not rel-rel…"

"Relevant," Charles whispered.

"Even though it's not relevant to what makes my father fascinating."

My throat constricted as I gazed across the table at Alex. He was beaming with pride at being my son. It was something I never expected to see. I knew he loved me, but to see him so proud left me unable to breathe.

He glanced at his paper and licked his lips, and when I studied him closer I noticed that his hands were trembling.

"My father is the most important person I know because he loves me, and…and I wrote a few weeks, but now I mean to say in a week…um…" He paused and took a drink of water. "My father is giving me something I haven't had in a long time."

His gaze switched from me to Julia.

"A mother."

Julia, Meg and Madeline were all weeping, which distracted Alex long enough for me to dry my eyes and drink the rest of my water.

I rose to my feet and met Alex halfway around the table with Julia following closely behind. She kissed him first, telling him in a tearful voice that it was an honor to be his mother.

When he gazed up at me I saw him yearning for my approval, waiting for me to tell him what I thought.

"You're the greatest gift any father could wish to receive, Alex."

He grinned bashfully.

"May I keep it?" I asked, nodding toward his paper.

His eyes widened. "You want to keep it?"

I smiled at him, completely relishing my life for the first time. Alex threw his arms around me and I hugged him back.

At the table, Madeline looked to Meg and smiled. When she looked at me she nodded in approval.

This was my life the way I had always hoped.

My future wife stood at my side, my future daughter beside her. In a room full of my family and friends I was unmasked, and as they looked at me and thought nothing of it, I at last felt I could do the same.

"Yes," I said as he handed it to me. I read the title again to myself and ruffled his hair. I felt a surge of pride in knowing how my son saw me: A man, a father, a respectable human being. At long last I felt I had distanced myself from being a ghost, a shadow, a loathsome beast.

"Yes, of course I will keep it," I whispered, holding him tightly. "For as long as I live."


End file.
